


Safe Haven

by toothbrush



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Big brother Dream, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Loves Tubbo, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Strange but Caring Potato Pig God, Techno is also there but idk what to describe him as, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, big sister niki, takes place after the festival but before Nov 16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toothbrush/pseuds/toothbrush
Summary: Tubbo had experienced enough war for a lifetime.So he ran away and built a secluded house tens of thousands of blocks away, where he could build redstone contraptions and bee farms in peace.He didn’t expect his new home to become everyone else's new home as well.Or, the DreamSMP plot is too sad so I wrote this to heal our broken hearts a bit. This is a comfort fic!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 402
Kudos: 1833





	1. Tubbo

“Tommy, are you coming with me?”

“I... I can’t, Tubbo. I have to stay here. For L’Manberg and Wil.”

Tubbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t terribly, terribly disappointed. But he respected how dedicated Tommy was to the revolution- to the grind, as he liked to say- and Tommy respected how tired Tubbo was of it.

“You’ll visit, won’t you?” Tubbo asked quietly. He gently reached out and Tommy wordlessly gave him his rough, callused hand to hold.

“Yeah, of course, big man.” Tommy hesitated for a second before pulling his friend into a tight hug. “Just message me the coords when you find a place to settle,” he said, his words muffled in Tubbo’s hair. Distantly, he noted how he still smelled like acrid gunpowder and smoke.

When they finally let each other go, Tubbo hefted his pack onto his shoulder and gave his best friend a wobbly smile.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Tommy.”

“See ya, Big T.”

And with a firm handshake and a steadfast grin, he was off.

* * *

Tubbo made his way through the forest, thousands and thousands of blocks away from Manberg and Pogtopia. He had made a secret Nether portal and traversed mainly through the Nether to get as far away as possible. An ice bridge between his two portals would be useful if he wanted Tommy to visit, but it’d have to be hidden to be safe.

Without anyone around, he felt more relaxed than he had in months. There was something invigorating about knowing no one was around to see him. He could sing and dance as loud as he liked, and there was something so freeing about acting without judgement. 

Recently, the further Tubbo got from the rest of the SMP, the more comfortable he felt with taking his time traversing the woods. It became less about running away and more about travel, adventure, and taking the time to heal. Part of healing, he had found, was talking out loud to no one. 

“I think,” Tubbo said loudly, with no reserve, “I think that normally, I’d be rather bored and lonely after being by myself for this long. Ah, excuse me-” He moved a tree branch out of his way and let it whip back into place behind him. “And I am, a bit. But being able to breathe and talk to myself and sort out my thoughts is really doing wonders for my health.” He laughed heartily. “Better to do it outside my head than inside. There’s way too much going on in there to be able to sort anything out.”

Eventually Tubbo just stopped and decided he would build a home here. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the area he chose. The ocean was near enough that he could go for a swim at any point, and the land was flat enough that he wouldn’t have to do too much terraforming to build a house. Other than that, it was just a random spot in the middle of the woods. 

Choosing this place had more to do with the fact that Tubbo finally felt… okay. He was no therapist, despite how much “theropay” he had done with Tommy, but walking in the woods, surrounded by nature, and just talking to himself about how he felt these past few months without fearing judgement from anyone had just freed something inside him. He felt lighter than he had in ages, and the second he realized that, he decided that he could finally settle down and build a home.

So Tubbo cleared the surrounding area, chopped down trees, mined iron, and got to work building his new house. He didn’t want to build anything like he had built before, he wanted something completely new. So he decided on an interconnected treehouse system. It would be useful to be up in the trees since if anyone comes for him, he’d have the advantage of being higher. 

Wait, no. No one’s coming for him. Tubbo’s safe here. He has _got_ to remember that.

But an interlocking treehouse system seemed like fun to make. He used to watch this television series when he was younger- what was it called? Fineeus and Ferb? Whatever, spelling was never his forte. But there was an episode where they built these complex treehouses and that seemed _sick_. It’d give him a chance to really experiment with redstone machines, too. 

He rolled up his sleeves. There was a lot of work to do.

* * *

Two weeks later, Tommy came for a visit. 

After Tubbo built the first few rooms in his treehouse, he had immediately messaged Tommy the coords and directions on how to get there. Tubbo had already built a secret ice bridge in the Nether that connected the portal to the SMP to his new home. Admittedly, he had gotten much of the inspiration from Sam and his secret nether portal, but he was sure the man wouldn’t care much. 

The ice bridge itself took forever to construct, so there wasn’t much work done on the treehouse system yet. But he had his bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, and another bedroom prepared for Tommy. It was cozy, and that was good for now. And even though he constantly told himself that no one was going to come get him, that he was finally safe, he had some redstone traps set up around the house, just to soothe his worries a bit. 

Tubbo was in the kitchen cooking some stew and pork chops and humming “Blame it on the Boogie” by The Jacksons when he heard a knock on his door. Immediately, he froze, but when the knock turned into a secret rhythmic pattern, his face brightened into a smile and he dashed over to the door, flinging it open and shrieking, “TOMMYYY!”

There Tommy stood, covered in dirt, smelling like absolute shit, and looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. But he was here! Tubbo reached out and dragged him into a hug. Oh, it felt so good to actually have human contact after so long, despite how bad Tommy stank.

“Tommy! Big man! It’s good to see you, man, how have you been?” Tubbo rambled with a huge grin on his face, pulling a shell shocked Tommy into his house. “Watch your step there, that’s a trap.” They sidestepped the barely visible pressure plates on the floor. 

“Uh... Tubbo...” Tommy started.

“Yeah?”

What was there to say? Tommy was just… surprised. Last time he had seen his friend, he was so, so tired. Unable to do much of anything, especially after the festival. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw Tubbo smile. But now his friend looked alive. More alive than he had in... months. God. He practically glowed with vitality.

“I…”

Tommy grinned. Jesus, was he about to cry? He better not.

“You look good, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plans I got for this:
> 
> First Tommy,  
> then Niki,  
> then Dream,  
> then Techno,  
> then Wilbur,  
> then who knows? 
> 
> Basically everyone is tired and Tubbo's like the only person on the server who's actually living happily so everyone comes over and wants a bit of that.


	2. Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's visit.

On Tubbo’s insistence, Tommy took a hot shower in his bathroom. It had taken Tubbo several days to rig a hot water system with redstone, but he had done it and now he had hot water and plumbing in his house, which he was immensely proud of. 

When Tommy emerged from his long shower, he saw some clothes folded neatly on the bathroom counter. It looked like Tubbo had specially prepared a red and white T-shirt just for him, though this one was softer than anything he had ever worn, as was the pair of brown pants right under it. 

Tommy came out of the bathroom looking and smelling better than he had in weeks, which he was thankful for. He hadn’t missed the way Tubbo’s nose wrinkled when he hugged him in the doorway earlier. Honestly, the smell couldn’t have been that bad because he’s _awesome_ and uses _lots_ of deodorant, but he could admit that it had been a while since he last took care of himself properly. 

“Hey, Tommy! You look… better!” Tubbo exclaimed, looking up from where he was stirring a pot of stew. The smell made his mouth water. When was the last time he had eaten hot food?

Then Tommy realized what Tubbo just said. He pouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you looked like shit before!”

“Hey, watch it.”

Tubbo gave a hearty laugh, pulling some wooden bowls from the cupboard. “You hungry yet, big man?”

Tommy’s stomach grumbled in response. 

He laughed again. “I’ll take that as a yes! Go ahead and sit down, I’ll be there in a sec.”

As Tommy sat himself at the small wooden dinner table, Tubbo carried in a tray of hot mushroom soup and pork chops.

“Dinner is served!” he exclaimed with a dramatic flair of his arms.

Normally, Tommy would scoff at him or give him a look of deadpanned judgement, but that didn’t feel right at the moment. So he laughed and played along because that was much more fun than not doing so. Besides, there was no one here but the two of them. Who was going to judge them for just being teenagers?

After the nicest, most filling dinner Tommy’s had in months, he offered to do the dishes, but Tubbo just shook his head and shooed him off to a bedroom that he had prepared just for him. 

“Get some rest, Tommy,” he said, pulling on a pair of pink rubber gloves. “I’ll take care of the dishes.” He turned around to face the sink and was about to turn on the water before he realized Tommy hadn’t said anything back.

“Tommy?”

Tubbo turned to face his friend, who just stood there in silence. 

“Tommy, is something the matter?”

The boy clenched his fists before releasing them and fidgeting with his fingers. What did he even want to say? What was wrong with him? Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t had something nice like this in ages. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t been able to hang out with his friend in almost a month. Maybe it was the fact that, back in Pogtopia, he was constantly on edge, constantly waiting for the ball to drop, constantly fighting and fighting and fighting. How old was he again? Sixteen? He felt thirty. 

“Tommy?”

How was he supposed to just... keep going? How much longer did he have to fight? Every day felt the same, every day was just another inch towards his inevitable death at this point. He bit his lip, staring at the ground, trembling. He was always waiting for the next bit of bad news, always just paranoid, always afraid, always angry, tired, dirty, sweaty, sad, 

tired, 

tired, 

tired. 

Angry. 

Every night he’d crawl into a cold bed with tattered sheets, stare at the stone ceiling of his room in a ravine, sleep, and wake up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. 

“Tommy, are you alright?” Tubbo had taken off the rubber gloves and held his hands, gently guiding him towards a large, cushiony couch. “Come on, big man, what’s up?”

Tommy looked at his friend. God, he was so bright and happy and loud. When was the last time he had seen his friend like this? When was the last time he had seen his friend at all? 

He looked at the couch they were now sitting on. Large, soft, cushiony. No one on the server even had a couch, at least none that he knew about. And wow, that was a dumb statement, but didn’t that also say a lot about how they all lived? The only person on this goddamn server who cared enough about something like comfort was Tubbo and his couch and his running hot water and plumbing system and soft clothes. Everyone else who had the capabilities of making something like that just used their knowledge and abilities on making war weapons, strength potions, enchanted armor, and redstone traps. 

And he was able to eat a good meal here, too. Tubbo was no chef, but even a simple soup and some pork chops was infinitely better than all the cold baked potatoes he ate back in Pogtopia. God, Techno and his fuckin’ potatoes. He was sick of them.

“Tommy, speak to me, man.”

Tommy looked up at Tubbo. There were too many thoughts in his brain, too much to unpack. He thinks he finally understands what “mental baggage” means now. Thanks, Wilbur.

“I just…” he pulled Tubbo into a tight hug. Even that nearly set him off because god, it’s been so long since he’s hugged someone. It’s been so long since he’s hugged his best friend.

“I’ve missed you.”

* * *

The next day, Tommy woke up at around noon feeling more rested than what felt like his whole life. The bed Tubbo had prepared was more comfortable than a cloud and the blankets were softer than bee fluff. Well, metaphorically of course. He doesn’t know what clouds or bee fluff really felt like. Besides, bees were more Tubbo’s thing.

Speaking of bees, one buzzed past his window. Wow, a window? The only thing his room back in the ravine had were stone walls. Now that was sad. Not very pogchamp.

He slowly got out of bed and yawned as he made his way to open the window. 

“Hey, Tommy!” a voice below him called out.

Oh, there was Tubbo. Partially visible through the leaves of the tree, he could see his best friend standing in a small flower field, surrounded by fat, happy bees.

“You finally awake? It’s like 1pm, man, you’ve been sleeping for like…” Tubbo paused and did the math in his head. “16 hours!”

Tommy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, I should head back soon then. Before Wilbur gets suspicious.”

“Well, stay for some lunch before you leave! I think I’ll make some pizza!”

Tommy brightened up at that. He’d never say no to pizza.

After washing up and getting dressed in some new clothes, courtesy of Tubbo, Tommy walked into the kitchen to see his friend stretching a circle of dough.

“Wanna help?” Tubbo asked with a grin.

“Sure,” Tommy replied, rolling up his sleeves and picking up a ball of dough.

Turns out, making pizza is more difficult than it seems. 

“Tubbo, I’ve been stretching this dough out for like ten minutes,” Tommy whined. “Why does it keep shrinking?”

“I dunno?” his friend shrugged, standing over his slightly misshapen but otherwise perfectly rolled out pizza dough. “Maybe you can try throwing it?”

His eyebrows knit together as he poured all of his focus into tossing the stubborn, fat disc of dough. Fat lot of good all that focus did because the second he started spinning the dough, it ended up landing right in his best friend’s poor face.

“Why,” Tubbo deadpanned.

Tommy’s loud, screeching laughter filled the small treehouse, and Tubbo couldn’t help but laugh along from behind the dough covering his face. He could’ve taken it off by now, sure, but it was a bit funnier to keep it on for a minute longer. Besides, he thought, Tommy could use a good laugh.

It’s after they’ve eaten their fill of pizza with whatever toppings they could find in Tubbo’s cupboards that Tommy decided it was time to leave. He couldn’t ignore his duty, and he definitely couldn’t ignore Wilbur. Not while the man was verging on insanity every day. But staying with Tubbo for as short of time as he had had done wonders. His motivation and determination was back full force. Going back home still felt like he would be returning to a hellscape, but at least he knew Tubbo was doing well out here, always ready to accept him with an escape from his worries. 

Clatters and random mutterings filled the air as Tommy watched his friend race around the house, gathering things for Tommy to bring back to Pogtopia with him. It wasn’t hard to notice how much Tubbo had changed since he left, especially with how much he talked out loud to no one in particular. He supposed it came free with living alone in the middle of the woods, but he didn’t really mind it. It was endearing in a weird, Tubbo-y way.

The brown haired boy stopped in front of him with his arms holding a teetering pile of food, clothes, and other random items he thought might be useful.

“Woah, woah, big T!” Tommy laughed. “I’ll be back soon, probably next week, man. Just hold onto this stuff for me, will you?”

Tubbo looked up at him, mouth open in a surprised ‘O’. “Really? You’ll visit soon?”

“Of course!” he declared and put his hands on his hips in what he hoped was a cool pose. “There’s no way I could just leave you defenseless in the middle of the woods for too long.”

The other boy grinned at him from behind the cluster of items in his arms. “Promise?”

“Yeah, promise. Jesus, you’re clingy. Next week, alright?”

They reached out and gripped each others’ hands firmly. Then Tommy turned around and cleanly slid down the treehouse ladder.

“Hey! Tommy!”

He turned around to see Tubbo sticking his head out of the window, face solemn. 

“Stay safe.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. So he just nodded resolutely and turned around, back to Pogtopia. Back to war.

He knew he was walking back to a grim life. But knowing he had a friend to return to, to escape to, made it easier. 

He couldn't wait until next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there's Tommy!
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you have any ideas for what I should write for other characters. I think I might do either Niki or Dream next.


	3. Niki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Niki and bread

It was lonely. Ever since Tubbo left.

Not that it wasn’t lonely even while he was here. Wilbur, one of her best friends and the whole reason she had come to the SMP in the first place, was slowly and steadily creeping his way towards insanity, and while Niki loved to be supportive and loving, he was starting to frighten her. Tommy was gut-bustingly hilarious, but ever since Tubbo left he was more subdued and solemn; though, something appeared to have happened recently to bring some of the light back in the young boy’s eyes. Making friends with other people on Pogtopia proved to be a little difficult, since they didn’t really pay attention to her.

It wasn’t their fault, really. Everyone around her was loud and assertive, it’s not like she could ask them to change that about themselves. It’s just that she wasn’t. Niki was naturally soft spoken, which wasn’t a bad thing. However, when she was surrounded by incredibly loud and confident people, it meant that her voice was constantly drowned out. Again, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but she couldn’t help feeling a little irked every time she was interrupted or talked over.

But when Tubbo was here, he’d always stop and listen to what she had to say. He was one of the few people who made living in Manberg, and then Pogtopia, bearable. The weight of being a spy was clearly taking a toll on him though, and Niki could see that, so she’d make an extra effort to spend some time with him. Their baking lessons were a bit messy and chaotic, but she couldn’t imagine how destructive it’d be if she had tried teaching Tommy or Quackity. Even with the mess they created, she couldn’t deny that she had more fun during their time together than she had in ages. Their personalities meshed well, and she couldn’t help but laugh along whenever she’d hear his infectious giggles. He was honestly like a little brother to her. Tubbo made everything better just by being there, and now that he’s been missing for well over a month now, the loneliness was really starting to set in.

So when she spotted Tommy sneakily eating a sandwich made of bread that she had only ever shared the recipe of with one other person, she couldn’t stay quiet.

“Tommy,” she said softly. She cleared her throat and tried again, louder. “Tommy!”

“Bwu- huh?” The blond boy whipped around, still chewing the chicken sandwich that Tubbo had insisted he take with him. “Yes, Niki?”

Clear, unwavering hazel eyes stared him down and he froze. Did he do something? He noticed her eyes flickering slightly towards his sandwich, before gazing back at him. What, did she want some? Like hell he was gonna do that, Tubbo made him this sandwich! And it was good! He held his sandwich closer to his chest protectively.

“Where did you get that sandwich, Tommy?” she asked, voice low. 

“Uhh…” he glanced to the right, frantically coming up with a lie. “I… I made it!”

Niki gave him a deadpanned look. “You made it.”

He grinned nervously. “Yeah?”

“Uh huh." She stepped closer. “What kind of bread is it then?”

Shit. Oh, come on, how was he supposed to know that? He _ate_ bread, not researched it. He wasn’t some food scientist or whatever.

“... Wheat?” 

Oh shit, oh fuck. That was so clearly the wrong answer. Even he knew what wheat bread looked like. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Sorry, Tubbo. Looks like this was the end.

Niki put her palms together in front of her face, almost as if she was praying. “Tommy, that is rye bread.”

“Well… isn’t that interesting. Anyway, uhh, I think I have to go. I hear Techno calling-”

“Tommy,” she cut him off. “There are only two places to get that specific type of rye bread because no one in this entire server knows how to _fucking_ cook. And you definitely didn’t get it from me because I haven’t opened my bakery in weeks.” She leaned in close, looming over him. “I’ve only taught one other person how to bake that.”

He gulped.

“So…” Her hand had an iron grip on his shoulder. “Where is Tubbo?”

* * *

In hindsight, maybe Tubbo should’ve let Niki know where he was, or at least let her know that he was planning on running away at all. They were like siblings, really. He loved her like a sister. But in his haste to escape, he may have forgotten that he had people besides Tommy to rely on. 

Him and Tommy were like two peas in a pod- thick as thieves, whatever that meant. The blond always made sure to remind people of that, constantly boasting about how Tubbo was his right hand man, how they were best friends, they could always rely on each other. Despite how often Tommy claimed that Tubbo was the clingy one, he probably wouldn’t know what to do without his friend by his side at all times. And Tubbo agreed! They were best friends for life. 

But when he was in Pogtopia, there was just so much anxiety and paranoia gripping his heart at all times. Even just breathing was so much harder because of how constantly afraid he was. Every single person felt untrustworthy. In the end, he felt like it was just him and Tommy against the world.

But it wasn’t, was it? He always had Niki by his side as well, didn’t he? And he never really held any animosity towards anybody in Manberg. In fact, he got along with most of them fairly well. Even Schlatt wasn’t brutally unkind to him, despite picking on him sometimes. Well, besides the festival. 

The wars and battles he had taken part in were never really his wars. They were Tommy’s war for the discs, Wilbur’s fight for L’Manberg, Dream’s strange need for conflict. Tubbo’s heart was never in these battles; he just fought to support his friends and what they believed in. And while he would always be Tommy’s right hand man, he just couldn’t keep fighting someone else’s battles.

For that reason, he didn’t see a reason to keep a distance from people anymore. If he separated himself from the revolution and fighting, he didn’t have to be fearful of anyone. After all, who would hurt him when he’s technically a neutral party?

But when Tommy sent him a message saying, _Niki wants to see you_ , he felt his stomach churn just a bit.

It was irrational. Niki had never done anything to warrant any kind of suspicion, especially from him. She was one of his closest friends. Of course he wanted to see her. 

Tubbo needed some time to think.

* * *

It was nearly two days before Tommy felt his communicator buzz in his back pocket.

_Tubbo_ whispers to you: She can come._

* * *

Niki showed up to Tubbo’s treehouse escorted by Tommy. Or more like, Tommy refused to let her be alone with Tubbo. It stung, just a bit, to be suspected of hurting him in any way, but it couldn’t be helped.

She reached out to knock on the door, but hardly lifted her hand before Tommy stepped forward and gave the door three sharp raps. 

After a moment, the door swung open.

“Hi Niki,” Tubbo said with a hesitant smile. 

A wide grin instantly made its way across her face. She spread her arms out in an invitation of a hug, and Tubbo only paused for a split second before falling into her arms.

“Hi Tubbo,” she whispered into his hair. It smelled like shampoo and flowers. He must’ve been taking care of his bees recently. 

She felt him relax a bit in her arms and smiled harder.

“May I come inside?” she asked. He nodded against her shoulder and loosened his hold on her, but Niki didn’t let go.

“Uh, Niki?”

“Alright, let’s go inside then,” she declared. Without relinquishing her hug, she started walking into the house, forcing Tubbo to waddle backwards. 

“Niki!” he screeched, but he didn’t try to escape out of the hug, instead gripping onto her even tighter. 

Her chest shook with laughter as she led them towards a couch in the living room, stumbling over each other’s feet all the way. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tommy hovering nearby, holding back a smile.

Careful not to actually trip or step on his feet, she pushed Tubbo onto the couch so that he fell facedown into the cushions and promptly sat on top of him.

“Oof.”

She smiled down on him, still shaking with giggles. 

“How have you been, Tubbo?”

“I was doing great until I got crushed by your butt,” he replied, voice muffled.

She gasped dramatically. “How rude.”

“Oh, please,” Tommy butted in. “If you can’t handle the weight of even one person then you are no man.” Then he flopped himself onto both Niki and Tubbo.

“Oh my god,” Tubbo groaned. “I’m gonna die.”

“Death by butts, how honorable,” Tommy snickered.

Niki perked up. “Oh, speaking of butt—”

“What.”

“—Tubbo, your rye bread needs some work. I tried some of the bread you used on Tommy’s sandwich and I think you may have kneaded it too much. It’s a little tough.”

“Oh, okay!” Tubbo replied eagerly, lifting his head from the couch cushions a bit.

“What… what does that have to do with butts.” Tommy furrowed his brows.

Tubbo spoke, “You know, like butter. Butt. Butter. Come on, Tommy.”

“Try and keep up, Tommy,” Niki added exasperatedly. 

“Oh my god.” Said blond boy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus. I’m getting some apple juice from your kitchen, Tubbo. I need to get away from you two.”

Niki and Tubbo cackled with laughter as Tommy walked away. Deciding that the boy had probably had enough by now, she rolled off of Tubbo’s back.

Immediately, he inhaled a big, dramatic gulp of air. “I can finally breathe!” Tubbo exclaimed.

“Uh huh,” Niki said. “Would you like me to show you how to make rye bread again?”

“Yes, please!”

* * *

Seven hours later, she and Tommy were walking back to Pogtopia with basketfuls of various breads and pastries, absolutely covered in flour. The explosion of a mess in Tubbo’s kitchen was mostly Tommy’s fault, but he was also astronomically helpful in cleaning up afterwards, so it was fine.

Niki hadn’t felt so light in months. Part of it was seeing her friend again after so long, part of it was seeing Tommy finally act his age around Tubbo, and part of it was just leaving Pogtopia for a bit and getting to stay in a lovely home for a while. Ever since Schlatt had raised taxes on her bakery, she wasn’t really able to have fun and experiment with cooking and baking, so she was incredibly grateful to Tubbo for letting her release some stress and mess around in his kitchen. 

Niki and Tommy stopped at the entrance to Pogtopia. She ruffled his hair (“Wot"), and pulled a sandwich out of her basket. 

“Here,” she said, placing it into his hand. “Sorry for interrogating you earlier.”

He nodded and gave her a short salute before scampering off to his room.

She headed off to her own room and lay on her bed. She reached into her bakery basket and pulled out a danish, looking at it for a moment. She’d have to ration these baked goods until she could visit Tubbo’s house again.

Maybe she’ll stop by next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Niki!
> 
> Next up, probably Dream.
> 
> lol I feel like I overuse the chapter break horizontal lines too much. Idk, I just don't wanna write transitions between scenes when I can go wheee there's a line and now we're onto the next scene *bam* like that


	4. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy it's Drem it's the green man

Tubbo had several traps hidden around his treehouse home. Some of them were intricate redstone mechanisms that gave him headaches trying to figure out and some of them were just simple rope snare traps that hung victims upside down in a tree. Like the ones seen in movies and television shows. Yes, they actually work, but they’re a bit obvious. They were just a fun little challenge for Tubbo to try and replicate something he’d seen on television a million times. They wouldn’t actually work on anybody with eyes. Or a brain.

Dream dangled upside down from a tree, ankle caught in a rope.

Tubbo looked up at the masked man swaying slightly in the wind. 

“Hullo, Drem,” Tubbo said pleasantly, using the familiar nickname. It had been a while since he last said it.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Dream replied, nonchalant as ever, hands still in his hoodie pocket as he hung upside down. The little bit of his face that peeked out from under the mask did look a little red, though, either from the embarrassment of getting caught or from however long he had been hanging. Possibly both.

Tubbo scanned the surrounding area carefully, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Dream must’ve come on his own.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” Tubbo said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, bit of a surprise visit.” He coughed lightly. “Mind getting me down from here?”

“If you promise not to kill me, sure.” Tubbo shrugged and stepped forward to undo the ropes.

“Thanks.”

Tubbo undid some knots, and after a few moments, asked, “So how did you find me, Dream?”

“...Luck.”

“Uh huh,” Tubbo crossed his arms. “Try again, please. I’ll have you know, I can choose to not let you down at all.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, wait,” Dream waved his arms around in a panic. “I’m an admin, remember?” he admitted, “I just teleported to your coordinates.”

“Dream, that’s a bit of an invasion of privacy, I’d reckon.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Just wanted to see how you were doing, if you were still alive and all that.” He scratched his head, slightly abashed. 

“Well, thank you for caring, I suppose,” Tubbo said. He pulled the last knot apart and Dream promptly plummeted to the ground with a short yelp.

Tubbo sighed quietly. If Tommy was here, he’d probably challenge the green man to a fight or get overly defensive over Tubbo and make his friend stand behind him or something. He always got so aggressive around Dream. 

But Tubbo never really had anything against the man. He honestly didn’t care that much about the discs; in fact, at the very start of the disc war, he encouraged Tommy to just forget about them. Dream had wanted a netherite chestplate in return for the first disc, and he didn’t think the disc was really worth it for that. He still didn’t think the discs were that worth it, to be perfectly honest, and he still secretly thought of Dream as an alright guy overall, despite being slightly terrified of his abilities as a fighter.

He watched Dream groan and pick himself off the ground. Luckily, he had fallen on a patch of grass. It wasn’t enough to protect him from taking some damage, but at least it wasn’t a rock. 

The masked man stood up to his full height, towering over Tubbo, and he felt himself subconsciously standing a little straighter, as if that’d do anything against the almost ten inches Dream had against him. Man, he hated being the shortest person on the server. It didn’t help that everyone else was freakishly tall. He swore, someday he’ll grow taller than all of them. Or at least maybe as tall as Tommy, who loomed over him even with his C-shaped posture.

His mind was brought back to the situation when Dream’s stomach groaned. The damage he took from the fall probably depleted some of his hunger.

“You didn’t hear anything,” Dream deadpanned, placing a hand over his stomach.

“I did not hear anything,” Tubbo agreed, nodding.

He waited for Dream to pull out a piece of bread or a baked potato or something, but he just stood there.

“Uhh... Dream, do you not have any food on you?”

“Nah.” Dream shook his head. The mask shifted ever so slightly and he moved it back into place. “That trap— nice trap, by the way—”

“Why, thank you.”

“It kinda made me drop all my stuff and it all despawned after I hung there for a little while.” He shrugged. “It’s no problem, I can handle it.”

Tubbo promptly grabbed his hand, making Dream jump a little. 

“Eat lunch with me then!” he exclaimed, eyes sparkling. “Niki taught me how to make really good pie crust so I’m gonna make some chicken pot pie— that’s what I came out here for, by the way, and how I found you, so you oughta be grateful that I decided I needed some more carrot because I just saved your life here.” The boy tugged on Dream’s hand slightly. “Do you wanna be my taste tester?”

Dream blinked, then barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. “Sure, Tubbo.”

“Alright! Follow me then, please.” Tubbo dragged Dream all the way, never letting go of his hand, and the man found that he didn’t mind holding hands for a little while.

* * *

Perhaps Tubbo should’ve thought a bit more about inviting Dream in for lunch on that day because now he thought the man was stalking him a bit. 

Maybe he should reword that to sound less... creepy.

Dream was showing up much more than Tubbo had ever seen him, and while he had never really seen the guy very often in the past, especially when they were on opposite sides of wars, this was getting to be a bit much. He was appearing at Tubbo’s house almost every other day at this point. Sometimes Tubbo would come home from a long day of harvesting crops in his automated farm, which was coming along very nicely, by the way, and Dream would just be lying on his couch, completely relaxed.

The company was nice, at least. Tubbo had been growing lonely, spending most of his days by himself. Tommy and Niki visited every week, sometimes together, sometimes separate, but the days in between their visits were becoming monotonous. His constant home renovations, big redstone projects, and ever growing bee farm could only distract him for so long. Dream’s presence was especially welcome on the days when he really felt the boredom and solitude eating him up inside. Interestingly enough, he never stopped by on the days when Tommy and Niki visited, though he didn’t mind the two of them knowing about his visits.

“Hey, Tubbo.”

He looked up to see the man himself walking in through the door, expertly sidestepping the trap laid right outside. Maybe it was from showing up so frequently or because he was afraid of getting caught again, but Dream had memorized every single trap that Tubbo had set up. He probably knew them better than Tubbo himself at this point.

Dream strode into the kitchen like a man on a mission, calling out, “You still got any more of those mini apple pies?”

“Yeah, they should be next to the cookies,” Tubbo answered, looking back down at a blueprint for his newest redstone project in his lap. He wanted to drain the ocean and make an ocean base. That’d be fun.

“Ooh, cookies?” the masked man exclaimed, high pitched and giddy.

“Oh, please don’t eat them all,” Tubbo put his pencil down and looked up exasperatedly. “I just made them, and Tommy’s coming tomorrow.”

Dream emerged from the kitchen with a plateful of mini apple pies and almost half of the cookies Tubbo had made just yesterday. He approached the couch Tubbo sat on, shoved a mini pie into the kid’s mouth (“—Mmpf!”), and sat on the couch next to the boy. He lazily watched him write small details and ideas into his blueprints for a few minutes before speaking.

“Your hair’s getting a bit long, huh?” he observed offhandedly.

Tubbo paused for a second and reached up to tug at his long locks. His bangs were beginning to cover his eyes and the sides covered his ears. “Yeah, I suppose it is. I reckon it’s been a couple of months since I last cut my hair, now that I think about it.”

Dream extended a hand and mussed Tubbo’s hair before running his fingers through the dark brown strands. The young boy leaned into the touch slightly as his friend tugged and messed with his hair. It felt nice. He focused back on the blueprints in his lap and let Dream do his own thing.

A few minutes later, Tubbo heard Dream snicker softly under his breath. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at the man suspiciously.

“What? What did you do, Dream?” He reached up and felt two stout pigtails in his hair. “Oh my god.”

Dream roared in laughter, nearly falling off the couch. He slapped the coffee table in front of them repeatedly as he wheezed, hitting the wood so hard that Tubbo winced. He had just built that table; he’d really appreciate it if it was treated a bit nicer.

The man fought to regain his breath. He reached forward to undo the pigtails in the poor boy’s hair, still shaking with quiet chuckles.

“Sorry, Tubbo,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I think you look good with your hair like that.” He stood up, strode over to the dining room, came back carrying a wooden chair, and placed it in front of Tubbo. “Here, sit.”

“... Why?”

“Because,” Dream pulled out a pair of iron shears. “I’m cutting your hair.”

“You are?” Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were a hairdresser, Dream.”

“I’m not, but cutting hair isn’t too hard. Besides, even if it looks bad, having hair at your current length is a disadvantage in a fight.”

Well, Tubbo couldn’t argue with that. He wasn’t planning on getting into any battles or PVPs any time soon, but the part of him that had been a soldier for the past year severely disliked the idea of being vulnerable on the battlefield. And even if the hair cut was bad, it’s not like anyone saw him out here besides Dream, Tommy, and Niki.

The boy got off the couch and sat on the chair, getting himself comfortable. Dream grabbed a tablecloth from the dining room and spread it over the floor to catch fallen strands of hair. 

Tubbo sat in silence as he heard the snipping of shears. It was therapeutic, in a way, the way the sound and close proximity of the snips sent soft shivers down his spine. It was like… ASMR, was it called? It was relaxing. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

Dream smiled softly as Tubbo started to doze off. He had been worried about the kid living out in the middle of nowhere all alone, hence his constant visits. 

Truth be told, he had known Tubbo’s location nearly the same day the boy decided to settle down and build his new home. And after that, he would abuse his admin privileges and teleport to Tubbo’s general location every once in a while to check up on the kid, make sure he was doing alright, make sure he wasn’t dead or something. He had never actually attempted to say hi, and he hadn’t particularly wanted to. Just the assurance that the kid was alive and healthy was enough to satisfy him. Until he blew his cover and accidentally got caught in Tubbo’s trap. Absolutely humiliating. 

After that fateful lunch- which was pretty good, actually- Dream started coming back for more food because goddamn, no one else in the entire server had a single clue how to cook actual good food. Tubbo barely knew how to, and that was miles ahead of most other people. After his sporadic food visits became more of a regular thing, he started dropping in more often for the company. Tubbo was a sweet kid, despite also being unreservedly chaotic, especially around Tommy, and the thought of such a nice boy being alone for too long didn’t sit well with him. Plus, George and Sapnap weren’t around much anymore, so he was starting to get a bit bored.

At this point, Dream was finishing up the final snips on Tubbo’s hair. It looked much better now, much less unruly and wild. He was no barber, but it didn’t look bad at all. He was pretty proud of it, in fact. Actually, now that he looked at it some more, Tubbo looked a little like Dream with his new cut. Probably because Dream only knew how to cut one style and that was what he gave Tubbo.

Well, he didn’t mind having a much shorter lookalike. It was like having a little brother. He sure hoped Tubbo didn’t mind, though.

Dream jovially ruffled the boy’s newly cut hair and brushed some loose bits of cut hair off of Tubbo’s shoulders and the back of his neck. Surprisingly, the kid didn’t even stir from his sleep with that. Well, what should he do now?

He stood for a second and pondered, then shrugged and picked the sleeping boy up in a bridal carry. If he was going to be this kid’s older brother, he might as well act like it.

Dream expertly made his way to Tubbo’s room, having the layout of the ever expanding treehouse system memorized at this point. He swore, Tubbo never ran out of ideas to add to the treehouse. Just the other day, Dream came for a visit to find that the boy had somehow magically added a whole music conservatory in one of the trees, fully fitted with temperature and humidity controlling systems to ensure the safety of the few instruments he had. He even had a piano. Not a grand piano, though Tubbo often mentioned how he’d love to get one someday. Until that day came, he had an old, quaint upright piano that he had found, abandoned in the woods. 

“It probably wasn’t left for very long,” Tubbo had said. “Since I only had to do a bit of restoration and fixing up. Tuning it is a whole ‘nother story, but it’s the best I can do for now with my limited abilities.”

Tubbo had been so excited, rambling on and on about plans for music he could play and songs he could compose.

“Oh, I’m sure Wilbur would lov—” He stopped. “Hm. Haven’t thought about Wilbur in a while.”

Dream looked at him cautiously. “You good?”

“Oh, yeah,” he had assured. “I’m okay. I just miss him sometimes, is all.”

And that had been that. Tubbo didn’t look too bothered, which put Dream’s mind at ease. But just in case, he made extra effort to make the kid laugh that day, and he made it a new mission for himself to keep an eye out for any instruments for sale anywhere. So far he had brought Tubbo a ukulele, a cello, and a recorder, which all absolutely made the boy go bonkers.

“Oh, thank you, Dream!” he had exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. 

He leapt at the man in giddy excitement, forcing Dream to stumble in surprise and catch him midair. 

“You’re welcome, Tubbo,” he had chuckled, chest feeling warm.

A smile stretched its way across his face at that memory. That was a good day.

Dream set a sleeping Tubbo down onto his bed and pulled the covers up. It was still around midday, so he closed the shades around the window. Then he decided, well, if he’s self appointed himself as Tubbo’s big brother, he might as well go all out. Maybe he’ll make dinner, he nodded determinedly. Yeah, this was a good idea.

Tubbo woke up three hours later to find, next to him, five stacks of diamonds, thirty enderpearls, and a hastily written note that read, 

> _Sorry I destroyed your kitchen. Tried to fix it as much as I could. Left some reparations too._
> 
> _Also, there are turkey sandwiches on the counter._
> 
> _-D_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else get that shivery feeling down ur back when u get a haircut? is that just me??  
> quick little thing about piano tuning and the instruments because i'm a music major and it's what i do:
> 
> Tubbo didn't have perfect pitch. He couldn't listen to an isolated note and tell if it was in tune or not. He only had his ears, and they weren't accurate. So the piano was slightly out of tune, despite his best efforts and several, several hours' worth of strained listening. He had actually spent an entire day sitting on the wooden floor next to the piano, listening carefully to each note and interval, and only getting up to eat when his own stomach's rumbles began drowning out the notes. Niki was very helpful that day, fixing him some snacks throughout the day and stopping by to ruffle his hair fondly, and Tommy chose to be helpful by being a just a bit quieter than usual.  
> The cello was much easier to tune once he had, for the most part, tuned the piano. All he had to do was listen to the fifths between the strings. He wasn't really a string player, so he didn't really know the proper techniques and tuning temperaments, but he taught himself to play a major scale and some simple tunes.  
> Recorder was easy. He spent hours and hours on the recorder, practicing his favorite songs. He learned "That's What I Like" by Bruno Mars and tormented Tommy with it for a few weeks, which was very fun. He had never heard Tommy scream so much.


	5. Technoblade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade never dies but goddamn does he get close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The life and permadeath mechanics of this fic is brought to you by this Reddit post:
>
>> [My theory on the death permenance within the storyline](https://www.reddit.com/r/dreamsmp/comments/jwg3qw/my_theory_on_the_death_permenance_within_the/) from [r/dreamsmp](http://www.reddit.com/r/dreamsmp)
> 
> The Dream Team Wiki also has a thing for each character that lists each of their major deaths and how many lives they have left, but I kinda ignored that for my own ideas lol

Everyone had a limited number of lives. Three, to be exact.

Most players, if they lived a normal life with only a few adventures and maybe a few life-threatening situations, reached old age with two lives, maybe only one. Sometimes they never reached old age, but that was how life went, unfortunately. Life grants a slight boon to everyone by displaying everyone’s remaining lives on their communicators, in case anyone forgot, which never really happened.

Tommy was on his second life. He had died once in his duel against Dream, and that single death alone had left the boy traumatized for weeks. Everyone had to deal with it— their first death. That didn’t make the process any less terrifying.

Wilbur was older and had experienced much more. He was already on his final life, which didn’t help his current mental state. 

Most of the others in the SMP were still on three lives. There were some, like Schlatt, Quackity, and Dream, who were on two lives, but most had their full three. 

Tubbo himself was on his last life. He didn’t like people knowing how or why, considering he was still so young. He’d never lie if someone asked him straight on how many lives he had, but that was a pretty invasive thing to ask in the first place, and most people he had met were fairly polite, so it hadn’t happened yet. Only Philza, Wilbur, and Tommy knew.

Life number one was gone before he had even reached a year old. Surprisingly enough, being left on the side of the road did terrible things to an infant. Tubbo was only lucky Phil had found him when he had, crying, dehydrated, and malnourished. Any longer and he might have lost two lives, or all three. Tubbo didn’t like thinking about it too much.

Life number two was lost to Technoblade’s hand, on stage, at a festival he had spent weeks preparing, decorating, and looking forward to. Tubbo understood why Techno had to do it, and he had already forgiven him. They were surrounded by Manberg citizens, there was no way Techno could have made it out of the festival alive if he had decided not to follow Schlatt’s orders. Peer pressure, Techno had called it. Tubbo understood. That didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt, though, put on display for everyone to watch him panic and break down, trapped in yellow concrete, brutally killed by someone he thought was a friend, a brother. That didn’t mean he was okay with staying in the war, on his final life, with the only people who knew about it being his best friend and a crazed man who had lost power due to his own poor choices.

So he had left. It wasn’t worth it anymore, not when Tubbo could permanently die at any time. No one truly understood his reasonings except for Tommy, which was fine by him. He didn’t need anyone else to know. If everyone saw him as a traitor for leaving, that was on them. All he wanted at this point was a happy, safe life far away from any action, and preferably away from Technoblade as well because, despite how much Tubbo wanted to completely dissolve any worries he had about him, the man was still scary.

But when Tubbo decided to sneak into Manberg in the dead of night to pick up some items he had forgotten in his initial haste to escape, and by chance happened upon a nearly dead body on the ground, he couldn’t do nothing about it. At least, that’s what he thought until he rolled the body over on its back and the face revealed itself to be Technoblade himself. 

He froze. But the hesitation only lasted for a few seconds before he shook himself back into reality. Fingers against the injured person’s neck, check their pulse. Breathe slowly, he couldn’t let his own shaky hands and pounding heart be mistaken for the victim’s pulse. 

Inhale, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

Exhale, two, three, four.

Rest, two, three, four.

The victim’s pulse was concerningly slow, but it was steady. It was too dark to see any possible injuries on the body, but they were right outside of Manberg; it was too dangerous to light a torch and risk getting caught. What could Tubbo even do? He couldn’t just leave the man here, he would die on his own, and even if he survived the night, he’d definitely be found the next morning by the people of Manberg. 

He could take him to Pogtopia, but the idea of being seen by Wilbur was still a little too much for him right now. And it was too late at night to simply send a message to Tommy or Niki— they were definitely asleep and probably wouldn’t see the text until next morning, and Techno didn’t have that much time.

Tubbo huffed in frustration. It looked like there was only one option if he didn’t want the man to die. He hefted the unconscious body over his back and shoulders, carrying Techno piggyback. Heh, piggyback. He shook his head; this was not the time for that.

Maybe someone else would have thought about revenge. Just leave Technoblade there to die his first death, it’s what he deserved for killing him at the festival. The man would be fine and he’d still have two lives left; more than Tubbo. But the thought of revenge hardly even crossed the boy’s mind. Right now, he had an injured man on his hands, and his only priority was to get Techno to a safe, well lit, and well stocked place where he could properly see what injuries he had to deal with. And there was only one place he felt was safe enough.

Tubbo didn’t particularly like the idea of inviting his own executioner into his home, but it looked like there was no other choice.

* * *

Technoblade woke up in an unfamiliar place. Immediately, his heart rate picked up, but he lay there still as stone, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady. Anyone looking at him would’ve thought he was deep asleep, and that was just what he needed. The few bits of information he could gain from faking sleep could be invaluable, and whoever had him would be none the wiser. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Light shone through his closed eyelids. Either it was daytime or he was close to an artificial light source. Light was both an advantage and disadvantage, he could see his surroundings but whoever had him could see him as well.

He was warm. His fingers felt soft bed sheets underneath him and he was clothed in a comfortable wool shirt and sweatpants. That put him a bit at ease. Whoever had taken him here at least cared about comfort, so they couldn’t be all that bad. He didn’t relax— he couldn’t— but it helped slow down his racing heartbeat.

It was quiet, but it wasn’t silent. He could hear redstone machines purring under the floorboards, bees buzzing outside, and an incredibly faint voice outside the door singing “That’s What I Like” by Bruno Mars. Oh… wait, actually. That was Tubbo’s voice. He allowed himself to relax for a second before suddenly realizing, _Oh crap, I killed that kid._

Did Tubbo bring him here for revenge? Was he going to kill him? Wait, he probably would’ve killed him by now if he wanted Techno’s death. Then, torture? Oh shoot, was he going to be tortured by a 16 year old bee-loving boy? That’s embarrassing.

The door creaked open.

“Techno? You awake?” 

Uhh… what was he supposed to do? Keep pretending to be asleep? Pretend to wake up and act all yawn-y and sleepy? That’s weird, he can’t act anyway.

“Umm…” Tubbo said hesitantly. “I can… kinda tell that you’re not asleep, Techno.”

Welp. There’s no hiding from that. Kid must be pretty observant or something.

He opened his eyes and squinted at the bright light coming in from the window. Yup, definitely daytime. Nearly noon, by the looks of it. 

“Hello,” he croaked. Ew, morning voice.

“Hi,” Tubbo greeted back. 

At that point, he realized that Tubbo had a bowl of soup in his hands. Oh, now that smelled good.

“I hope that’s for me,” he said.

“It is, it is,” Tubbo confirmed. “You have a… worrying number of arrow wounds. I hoped that soup would be a good meal for an injured patient, but with the number of holes in your body, you might just turn into a— into a watering can or something.”

Techno deadpanned, “A watering can.”

“Yeah, or like a sprinkler system.”

Tubbo set the tray on a bedside table next to Techno and helped the man into a sitting position. 

“Here,” the boy said, handing him the large bowl of hot beef broth. “I made it myself. It’s quite good for you, really.”

Techno just held the bowl in his large, callused hands for a moment and soaked in the heat. He took the spoon offered by Tubbo and took a sip. 

“... It’s pretty good.”

Tubbo grinned tentatively. “I’m glad.”

For the next few days, Tubbo would knock on the door periodically and bring him heartier and heartier soups. It seemed like he was having fun experimenting with different soup recipes.

“I hope you like dumplings because I put a ton of dumplings in this one!”

“Okay, okay, okay, so this one! It’s got potatoes in it! It’s almost like mashed potatoes, honestly, but it’s good.”

“So this one’s more like stew than soup, but it’s still rather soft so I think it’s alright.”

“You won’t believe this one, Techno, you really won’t! It’s honey soup, I made it purely out of honey.”

Some of them were bigger misses than hits.

Every day, along with his supper, Tubbo would bring a potion of healing for Techno to drink. It was a good thing that Dream had given him so many of them just the other day. It was also a good thing that Dream was out doing another Manhunt at that moment. Manhunts took him, George, Sapnap, Bad, and Antfrost days to do because of how strenuous they were and how much recuperation they had to do afterwards.

Lucky for Tubbo, because Dream probably wouldn’t be too happy with Technoblade being here right now, considering the... explosive events of the festival. Dream was so protective over his friends.

By the third day, Technoblade was almost completely healed. And no offense to Tubbo and the several books and games he brought to his bedside, but he was starting to get really bored. His hands itched to do something, his muscles ached to move, his mind urged to be active. 

So that morning, when Tubbo announced that he was going to check on his farm, Techno asked, “Can I help?”

Tubbo paused for a moment and thought about it. He didn’t see why not, plus the activity wouldn’t hurt, as long as the man didn’t strain his muscles too much. 

“Sure!”

Turns out, Technoblade was incredibly knowledgeable about farming, especially with potatoes. Also, it turns out that Tubbo’s automated farm was absolutely not efficient enough. 

“I didn’t know you loved farming so much,” Tubbo grumbled after nearly thirty minutes of Technoblade critiquing his pumpkin farm.

Techno paused. “I don’t,” he admitted.

Tubbo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Surely not? You know so much about it.”

“Well, yeah, I guess I don’t dislike it,” the man said, kneeling down to inspect the soil surrounding the carrots. “I grew food to sustain myself and others when we needed it. And then I grew potatoes for competition against a guy named Squid Kid.” He stood back up, apparently satisfied with the carrots. “I like competition and I like something to hyperfixate on. Farming just happened to satisfy both of those needs.”

“Oh,” Tubbo said, frowning. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s fine,” Techno waved a hand, as if shooing away Tubbo’s worries. “You didn’t need to know.”

The boy hummed in thought. “But if you hated it then you wouldn’t do it, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“So then you like it?”

Techno paused for a moment. “Hm, I guess. It’s more of a hobby at this point. Something I happen to know a lot about.” He looked off into something in the distance. “Your sugar canes are placed like a drunk man planted them. Your sugar’s gonna taste like absolute shit.”

Tubbo squawked in indignation and Techno hid a smile.

“What," a voice behind them growled.

Tubbo spun around to see his best friend standing nearby, looking at Technoblade with fire burning in his eyes. 

“Tommy—”

The blond dashed forward and pulled his friend behind him protectively while keeping his glare directed at the pig man.

“What. The hell. Are you doing here,” he gritted out.

Techno sighed. “Good to see you too, Tommy.”

Tommy sputtered, affronted. “Good t— ‘good to see you?!’ Are you kidding me? Tubbo, what is this— this bastard doing here? I swear to God, if you’ve hurt even a single hair on his head, I’ll—”

He was cut off by Tubbo’s hand on his shoulder. “Tommy, it’s okay.”

The blond whirled around to face his friend. “What do you mean ‘it’s okay’?! It’s not! This man— this absolute son of a bitch— he—” Tommy lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “He’s the reason you’re on your last life! Tubbo, please—”

“Tommy, you’re not being as quiet as you think,” Tubbo said, wearily, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

The taller boy stopped and looked behind him to see Techno looking like someone had punched him in the gut. He glanced at Tubbo for a second before dropping his gaze to the dirt.

“Tubbo, you’re…” Techno rasped, then he cleared his throat. “You’re on your third life?”

Tubbo stayed silent for a moment. “...No?” he lied.

“YES, he is.” Tommy glared at his friend before directing the look at Techno. “And it’s all your fault.” He tugged on Tubbo’s wrist gently. “C’mon Big T, let’s get out of here.”

“No,” Tubbo replied firmly. “Tommy, listen. I forgive him. I forgave him a while ago. And before you say anything— because I can see you are about to!”

Tommy closed his mouth.

“He was hurt. I couldn’t just leave him there to die. And he didn’t know that I had already lost a life when he shot me. I’ve made my peace with it. Please just… it’s okay, Tommy, Techno. Both of you. I’m fine.”

The three of them stood there in silence for a long moment. 

“So…” Techno spoke up. “You’re not… mad? Scared?”

“I am scared,” Tubbo stated matter-of-factly. “I am. Was. But…” He took a shaky breath. “Techno, you remind me of a friend of mine. He actually calls himself a ‘Walmart Technoblade’ sometimes. When I first brought you here, I could hardly let my guard down. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were in my house. And… when I talked to you, it was hard to act like I was fine. But, uh, I sort of just pretended like I was talking to my friend whenever I talked to you.” Tubbo shrugged. “And now, I guess I’m mostly okay with being around you. I don’t know. It’s not that deep, Tommy.”

Tommy looked at him like he was batshit crazy.

“You are… batshit crazy,” he said.

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “What I’m saying, Tommy, is that I’ve forgiven him and he doesn’t scare me anymore. He’s helped me come up with a lot of soup recipes, actually, I think you’d like my chicken and dumpling one.”

Tommy perked up at that. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds… really good actually.”

“Yeah. You want some now? I have leftovers.” Tubbo gestured towards his house.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That sounds good.” Tommy nodded and started towards the front door.

Tubbo watched him go for a second before grabbing Techno’s arms and pulling him towards the house. 

“Come on, Techno. You like that soup, don’t you?”

The man looked at the much shorter kid with an unreadable expression. He sighed and allowed himself to be dragged along. “Yeah, I do.”

“Oh, I’m glad, I’m glad. I like that one, too.”

After a moment, Techno spoke up.

“... You’re really alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“I am,” Tubbo answered with a confident nod. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for that. I forgive you.”

Techno ruffled the kid’s hair (“Wh— hey!”) to distract him from the feeling of his throat choking up. 

He was… unbelievably guilty. God, his chest hurt from the guilt. The kid only had one life left and it was his fault. And sure, being up on stage with countless eyes on him, waiting to kill him if he didn’t follow Schlatt’s orders, he had felt incredible amounts of pressure. And Tubbo probably would’ve died anyway, if not at his hands then at Schlatt’s. But, man, he could’ve done something. He was Technoblade. Technoblade never dies! Blood for the blood god! He could’ve done _something_. He thought that Tubbo could take it, that he’d walk it off and be fine. What would he have done if Tubbo was on his final life up on stage? What would he have done if Tubbo had died a permadeath? If the kid wasn’t alive right now? He could hardly think about it.

His one agenda was destroying authority and government. Tubbo was the furthest thing from being on his hit list, especially now that the kid was just living in the woods alone peacefully, and that made him feel even more like garbage for hurting him. Killing him.

Technoblade swore to protect the kid from now on. No matter what. Tubbo was going to live the rest of his life safely and happily, Techno would ensure it.

“Hey Tubbo,” he called out.

Tubbo turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I have an idea for a new soup.”

The boy grinned. “Really?”

Technoblade grinned back, feeling unfamiliar muscles stretch in his face. “Yeah. What do you think about bee soup?”

“Oh my g— I have had it up to here with you, Techno.”

Techno roared in laughter, laughing harder than he had in ages. 

Ow, his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if there's something I thought was gonna happen in 2020, Ranboo joining the SMP was not one of them. Good for that lil (tall) dude.
> 
> Also Quackity's Love or Host! AAAhhhhHH!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> keep in mind that I never beta read or edit my writing lol
> 
> EDIT: JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO SAY WHY TECHNO WAS INJURED basically all i could think of was that he was sneaking too close to Manberg territory and some guards or soldiers (maybe Ponk or Sapnap or some unnamed person) just snipes him for getting too close.  
> Alright thank you for reading have a lovely day or night, depending on when you read this :)


	6. Wilbur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Wilbuh

Tubbo couldn’t breathe.

“Hello, Tubbo,” Wilbur greeted him pleasantly, standing right outside his front door, hands in his coat pockets, as casual as ever.

He waited for Tubbo to say something back, but after a long moment of still silence, Wilbur looked at the boy with furrowed brows.

“Are you alright, Tubbo?” he asked gently.

Tubbo gaped like a fish, staring at the man in front of him. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides.

“I…” he faltered. “How…?”

“How did I find you?” Wilbur finished helpfully, smiling at the boy.

Tubbo gave a short, jerky nod.

“Let’s just say that… Tommy, Niki, and Techno all disappearing one by one periodically throughout the last few months has not been very subtle.” He shrugged casually. “They talk about you sometimes, when they think I’m not around. And following them isn’t very difficult when they never suspect they’re being watched. Especially Tommy.”

Another long moment of silence stretched on as Wilbur watched Tubbo stand stock-still, hardly breathing, like a deer in headlights. He sighed. “Tubbo, I don’t know what you think of me right now, but I’m not here to hurt you or drag you back or— or anything of the sort.” He gave Tubbo a tentative smile. “I’m just here to say hi. I’ve missed you.”

Tubbo didn’t move for a moment. He looked down at the floor, not making eye contact with Wilbur. “I’ve... missed you too, Will.”

“May I come in?” Wilbur asked, gesturing towards the interior of the house.

Tubbo hesitated. Was this a good idea? Probably not. But... it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out, see what he has to say. Tubbo was always a believer of second chances and not holding any grudges, despite how much Wilbur still put him on edge. After all, they were brothers, although it’s been a while since Tubbo saw him as one.

Decision made, Tubbo stepped to the side, allowing Wilbur access. “Come on in, then.”

“Thank you.”

Wilbur entered his home— his safe haven, and it didn’t feel right to have someone so unpredictable within his home, though he felt much the same when he had brought Techno here, so really, what was he doing bringing all these dangerous men into his home. He should really stop that.

Wilbur whistled low in awe as he looked around. “This is a nice place you got here,” he marveled.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Tubbo said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Tubbo glanced over at Wilbur, noticing the deep, dark bags under his eyes, his sagging shoulders, his hollowed cheeks. The guy looked like a limp old green bean. He looked even more spent than Tubbo felt before he left Pogtopia. Wilbur was on his third life, too. Wasn’t he at all worried about his health?

“Here, sit down,” Tubbo said, directing Wilbur to the dining table. “When was the last time you ate?”

Wilbur sat down and thought for a moment. Then that moment stretched for longer and longer until it became radio silence.

“Wilbur?”

“I don’t… really know,” he answered, pondering hard. He rested his arms on the table and nestled his head on top. “I think I had some jacket potatoes the other day. Not sure which day it was, though.”

Tubbo briefly groaned inwardly. Why was he always the one feeding others? He was honestly a little sick of soup due to a certain someone, so he’d have to find something solid that could be light on an empty stomach. He walked into his kitchen— newly renovated, by the way (Thank you, Dream)— and dug through the cupboards. Oh, he had some leftover rice from last night’s curry rice.

“Would you like some rice balls?” he called out.

There was a surprised pause. Then, a tentative, “...Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Tubbo smirked to himself. Sucks for Dream then. That man would probably be visiting tomorrow, and he always enjoyed salmon rice balls. Maybe he could teach the guy to actually cook for once, and save his kitchen from future peril. Tubbo scoffed quietly; yeah, and maybe Karl could be faithful to a single man for once. Some things were just impossible.

Tubbo took out some leftover cooked salmon, rice, seasoning, and dried kelp and began shaping the rice. To be honest, he didn’t know much about Japanese cuisine, but it was fish inside of a triangle of rice wrapped in dried seaweed; it wasn’t that difficult. He wasn’t hand pulling ramen noodles or whatever.

When he stepped out of the kitchen holding a plate of rice balls and saw Wilbur no longer sitting at the dining table, he felt his stomach drop. Where was he? God, this was like when you lost sight of a spider. Wilbur could be anywhere. Could the man not sit still? What the fuck. 

Then, faintly, Tubbo heard the sound of a guitar. Oh, Wilbur had just found his small music conservatory. He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to relax. It was fine, he was fine.

Tubbo carried the rice balls down the hallway, listening as the music grew louder with every step he took. It wasn’t a particularly happy melody, but it wasn’t particularly sad. There was a pang of nostalgia in every phrase of harmony, each chord ringing out with a melancholic, bitter undertone.

“Wilbur?” he knocked on the door frame, peeking in at the man sitting on the floor next to the piano, holding a guitar that Dream had brought Tubbo just the other week.

Wilbur jumped as Tubbo entered. “Oh… hi.” He smiled sheepishly and lifted the guitar slightly. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all,” Tubbo assured, holding a hand out in front of him reassuringly. “Here.” He handed the plate of rice balls to Wilbur, who accepted it with slightly shaky hands. “I hope you like salmon.”

Wilbur’s mouth twitched, stifling a laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “You could say that.”

Tubbo watched Wilbur wolf down a rice ball in two bites. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, “So… what were you playing?”

The man licked a grain of rice off the back of his hand. “Nothing really. It was just improvisation. You could do it, too.”

Tubbo perked up in interest. “You think so?”

Wilbur gave a sure nod. “It’s not difficult. You just have to know what chords you’re going to play. If you can sing in improv, you can play in improv.”

“Oh.” Tubbo paused. “...I can sing in improv?”

Wilbur replied without hesitation. “Sure you can,” he said, picking up his third rice ball. “Most people can, and you’re already proficient as a musician. You could figure it out easily.” He swallowed another bite, then looked at Tubbo. “You wanna try it out?”

The boy laughed nervously. “What, improvisation?”

“Sure.” Wilbur shrugged, polishing up his plate and placing it on the floor next to his feet. “Thank you for the food.”

“Oh, no problem.”

He brushed off his hands of any stray grains of rice and picked up the guitar. “Here, take a seat at the piano. Why don’t we jam?”

“Yeah?” Tubbo grinned. He took a seat on the piano bench. “What key?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. “F major,” he decided. “Let’s keep it easy for now.”

Tubbo played an F major chord and Wilbur followed suit, fingerpicking the arpeggio on the guitar. 

“... Now what?” the boy asked. His hands hovered over the keys hesitantly.

Wilbur hummed in thought. “D minor,” he decided.

Tubbo played a D minor chord. 

“B flat major.”

He played a B flat major chord, sprinkling in some arpeggios.

Wilbur smiled at that. “There you go. Now try C major.”

Tubbo played it, then looked at his older brother. “Should I repeat that from the F chord?”

“Yup, go ahead,” Wilbur answered, giving Tubbo a reassuring smile. “Have fun with it. I’ll follow your lead.”

The kid smiled back and started from the top, this time with more confidence and interesting rhythms. Wilbur soon followed, strumming and fingerpicking each of the chords and carving his own melody on top of Tubbo’s accompaniment. They repeated the chord progression until Wilbur began singing softly along, making up lyrics with no particular meaning. At some point, he deviated away from the chord progression that Tubbo had gotten comfortable with, and the sixteen year old stumbled as he struggled to find his footing. It took a few tries, but Tubbo found himself relaxing as he learned to listen to Wilbur and his cues. 

There was something so freeing about jamming out with Wilbur. He still didn’t know how he felt about the guy just showing up at his front door out of nowhere, but he seemed fine for now, just tired. Plus, making music with others was a pleasure that he hadn’t been able to indulge in for almost a year, since Wilbur was really the only proficient musician in the server besides Quackity and Fundy.

Wilbur caught his eye and started slowing down, indicating the end of this new song that they made together. They played the last chord in tandem, letting the sound resonate in the air before cutting it off at the same time. They didn’t move, didn’t speak. Tubbo’s hands hovered over the keys and Wilbur kept his head down, neither of them willing to break the trance of the music’s end. The silence was chilling, and Tubbo didn’t dare breathe. 

Finally, after the longest, half a minute of Tubbo’s life, and yes it was only really about half a minute, Wilbur took a breath and broke the spell. 

Tubbo breathed a quiet laugh. “That was fun.” He looked at Wilbur, who looked back at him with a wide smile and soft eyes, softer than they had looked in years.

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, standing up to ruffle Tubbo’s hair. “It was. I haven’t been able to have fun like that in a while.” He opened his arms and Tubbo stepped into the hug without much hesitation. “Thank you,” Wilbur whispered into Tubbo’s hair. It tickled a bit, it did.

And while Wilbur was obviously feeling a bit emotional, and Tubbo was grateful that he could be of help to this poor, poor husk of a man, he couldn’t help but be a little miffed about their height difference. God damn it, Wilbur was so tall. The man was even taller than Dream, and an exact foot taller than Tubbo. Jesus. Why was everyone on the server so tall? Even Niki was taller than him. If everyone could just shrink, that would be so, so cool. Oh, Wilbur was saying something.

“Tubbo,” Wilbur spoke, pushing him away enough to lean down and look him in the eyes. He took a deep breath.

“I need to talk to you about what happened at the festival.”

All of a sudden, breathing became so much more difficult. Tubbo directed his gaze to the floor, breaking eye contact, because looking at Wilbur right now only reminded him how this man had simply watched as he died onstage, whispering to him reassuring lies about how he wouldn’t be hurt, don’t worry, he’d be fine. 

Wilbur held Tubbo’s shoulders gently, but firmly. “Tubbo, I need to apologize.”

The boy lifted his gaze slowly to look at Wilbur and saw genuine regret in his surrogate brother’s face. 

“I never wanted you to get hurt, Tubbo,” Wilbur whispered.

Tubbo’s spoke quietly. “... You didn’t?” 

Wilbur looked almost insulted. “Of course not!” he exclaimed. “You’re my little brother, ever since Phil brought you home that day. I was never going to go through with the TNT plan if you were going to get caught in the crossfire, but unfortunately you got… you got killed anyway. I am… _so_ sorry that that happened, and that I did nothing to stop it.”

The boy looked down, feeling younger than he had in ages. “Okay,” he said softly. He cleared his throat, trying to get the tight feeling out of his chest. “I… I won’t lie. You told me he wouldn’t hurt me, but he did. I… I felt a little betrayed. You said I’d be okay.” 

Tubbo looked up to see Wilbur’s mouth tightly pressed into a thin line, looking pained. He took a shaky breath and continued.

“And then… and then afterwards, in Pogtopia, you weren’t even worried about me, you didn’t _look_ at me. You were just trying to make Tommy mad, and I didn’t even know why, and I had just respawned, and— and I needed _help_. I needed someone, Wilbur. I had just _died_.” Tubbo started to tremble. He wrapped his arms around himself in comfort, but saw Wilbur open his arms slowly, carefully. Tubbo hesitated for a moment before stepping into Wilbur’s embrace, feeling his arms hug him securely. He leaned his forehead against Wilbur’s chest and felt the man place his hand on top of his head. 

“You know that I’ve died before, when I was like, a baby, but that was so long ago. As far as I’m concerned, the festival was my first death. And I was so scared and freaked out when I woke up alone, but I couldn’t rest and I couldn’t even begin to process it because I had to run from Manberg, a-and no one helped me because you were all busy handling whatever spat you were having!”

Tubbo was crying now, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks and wetting the front of Wilbur’s sweater. He used his sweater sleeve to wipe away some of the tears. “I... don’t want to come off as sss-self-centered, Wilbur, I really don’t. Bu-but surely it couldn’t have been too... too much to ask? I just wanted my… brothers to look after me. And help me when I had just entered my last life.”

“I know,” Wilbur rasped as he hugged Tubbo tight. “I know. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t know Technoblade was going to actually… and- and I was so focused on my own shit that I had completely forgotten about you. I’m sorry.”

Tubbo couldn’t see; his eyes were too watery. “You forgot about me?” he asked, voice cracking, hands trembling as he held onto the back of his older brother’s sweater.

Wilbur took a shaky breath. “I did. I’m sorry. And I’m ashamed to say that it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I realized... I haven’t been doing my job as your older brother. I’m supposed to look after you and Tommy. But you’ve been missing for months now and I didn’t even know where you were, and I had been treating Tommy more like garbage than usual.” 

That got a tiny huff of a laugh out of Tubbo, a little extra exhale out of the nostrils.

“I won’t forget you again, Tubbo,” Wilbur promised as he leaned his cheek against the top of his brother’s soft brown hair. “Never again. I’m sorry.”

Tubbo felt tears run down his cheeks. “You promise?” he asked, hiccuping on his breaths.

Wilbur gently pushed the boy away to look at him in his watery eyes. “I promise. I may not have the same goals as you or Tommy, and maybe we’ll disagree on certain things here and there, but I promise I won’t let either of you get hurt again. That’s never what I wanted. I won’t lose sight of what’s truly, truly important.”

So Wilbur still intended to destroy L’Manberg then. Well, Tubbo thought through his tears, he couldn’t really find himself caring all that much. He wasn’t a part of the war anymore, and he didn’t care about that nation all that much anymore. Let Dream or Schlatt have it. As long as he and his friends were safe, that was all that really mattered to him.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

He let himself sink to the floor, dragging a willing Wilbur along with him. They sat on the floor and simply held each other for a while as both their tears slowed.

After a while, Wilbur shifted slightly, freeing up a leg cramp, and Tubbo was shaken back into reality.

“Tubbo,” Wilbur said, voice still choked and croaky from the tears. “I have to go back now.”

Tubbo nodded. “Okay,” he rasped, his voice equally as bad.

“May I come back another time? Maybe next week? We can have another jam session,” Wilbur asked hopefully.

Tubbo hugged Wilbur tighter, smiling into the man’s chest where his face was smushed.

“Yeah,” Tubbo said. “That sounds fun.”

* * *

Dream walked through the front door of Tubbo’s treehouse with confident swagger. He used to swing in through the living room window, but that scared the living daylights out of Tubbo, and not in a funny way. Pranks were funny, but giving the poor kid a heart attack was not. 

“Hey, Tubbo,” he called out on his way to the kitchen for a snack. Hopefully Tubbo had some rice balls, or at least the stuff to make rice balls. 

“Hi,” Tubbo called back in a hoarse voice.

Dream stopped in his tracks and turned right back out of the kitchen. Rice balls would have to wait. “What happened to your voice?”

“... I really, really like screaming.” Tubbo tried, as Dream walked up to him and held the kid’s face in his callused hands, inspecting every inch of the skin.

“Were you crying?” Dream asked softly, noticing Tubbo’s red, puffy eyes. “What happened?”

Tubbo fidgeted with his hands. “Umm… a friend visited? And we played music together and it was so good that we cried.” He flashed his friend a smile.

Dream hummed in thought, looking unconvinced. “And who was this friend? Was it Tommy?”

A pause. “Er, no. Okay, please don’t, like, overreact or anything.”

Dream raised an eyebrow that peeked out over the top of his mask. Overreact? He would never.

Tubbo stalled for a moment before breathing out a sigh. “It was Wilbur.”

Dream stilled. 

Oh Jesus, Tubbo groaned inwardly. He was going to overreact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recent events in the SMP have made me so very sad so I drew fanart of my two favorite best friends just vibing  
>  I haven't drawn anything in like a month but I decided to ignore all of my schoolwork to spend like 3 hours on drawing lmao
>
>> recent events of the smp have made me so very sad so here are two mad lads hi fiving the pain away [#tubbofanart](https://twitter.com/hashtag/tubbofanart?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw) [#tommyinnitfanart](https://twitter.com/hashtag/tommyinnitfanart?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw) [pic.twitter.com/Z9lw0LGtYA](https://t.co/Z9lw0LGtYA)
>> 
>> — Paulink (@paul_nuri) [December 4, 2020](https://twitter.com/paul_nuri/status/1334673867546251270?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)


	7. Winter Special!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo gets sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering why this took so long to come out it's because i ate an entire chipotle bowl, a McChicken, 15 bite sized crab cake balls, 2 mcnuggets, and then i fell asleep for like 3 weeks

Tubbo woke up slowly, feeling warm and completely cozy. Most mornings, he got up relatively early and began working on whatever project he had planned for that day. Today, however, it was cold outside, and he was feeling comfortably lazy lying in bed, engulfed in a nest of fluffy blankets and pillows. The air outside was chilly, and he was feeling too sleepy and snug to get out of bed just yet.

He let himself bask in the feeling of warmth and tranquility for a few minutes before opening his eyes slightly to see— to his absolute delight— thick flurries of pure snow falling slowly past his window. Grinning widely, he sat up and got out of bed, shivering as his bare feet met the cold floorboards. 

Tubbo approached the window and opened it, feeling the cold air blow against his cheeks and making them bloom into a rosy red. He reached out with his bare hands and grabbed some snow that was piled up on the window sill. He packed the snow into two little snowballs and stacked them to make a tiny little snowman, which he placed onto the window sill before closing the window slowly to avoid knocking it over. 

He admired his little snowman and beamed proudly. Today was going to be a good day. He could feel it.

Perhaps he had spoken too soon.

Tubbo sniffled miserably as he lay in bed with a 103°F fever. Maybe he had been a bit too ambitious in his mission to build an entire ten foot tall snow fortress and a twenty foot tall holiday tree next to his house within the span of seven hours, but hey, at least now he had a ridiculously cool snow fortress. The fever was a small price to pay for that, though it was hard to convince himself it was worth it when he was entirely alone in his house, tossing and turning, uncomfortably hot in his bed as he battled illness.

It was at times like these when he wished he wasn’t living out in the woods all by himself. Of course, it was great to be away from all the conflict, but he had no one to rely on besides himself. And, not to sound needy or clingy or anything, because God knows he’s heard _that_ too many times from a certain 6’3”, blond-headed demon, but it was nice to have someone look out for you and take care of you without having to ask. Because, after all, the hardest part of needing help is asking for help, and Tubbo could never find it within himself to muster up the courage to.

Honestly, Tubbo would have been okay with recovering from sickness alone. He’d be miserable and lonely, but he’d be fine. However, he was getting a bit desperate here. The feeling of sickness wasn’t going away and he could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into feverish delirium. He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying in bed because he kept drifting in and out of consciousness, never awake and aware enough to actually notice the time before he was out again.

At some point— who knew if it had been hours or days— he found himself awake enough to register basic human needs, and he registered that he was thirsty as hell. Despite his parched throat, he literally could not force his body out of bed. He grunted as he tried to sit up, then immediately collapsed back into bed after being hit by a heavy wave of dizziness and nausea. 

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. God. He was so sick. He couldn’t even move. He… he needed help. He couldn’t do this alone.

First person that came to mind was Tommy, his best friend. He wanted Tommy. He was achingly lonely and sad and sick and he wanted a hug from his best friend. Maybe Tommy wasn’t the best choice because who knew how much the guy knew about medicine, but Tubbo wasn’t exactly in the right mind at the moment.

Tubbo grabbed his communicator off the bedside table and typed out a message to Tommy through a thick fog of febrile delirium, weakly hitting the “send” button right before sinking back into unconsciousness.

> <Tubbo_> help pleese

* * *

Distantly, Tubbo felt something cool and wet press against his sweaty forehead. He grumbled softly, roused from sleep, and felt someone’s hand brush damp strands of hair away from his face.

Tubbo forced his bleary, crusty eyes open and saw a tall figure sat next to his bed, shadowed and obscure in the dark room. Their silhouette was outlined by the soft yellow light coming from behind his slightly ajar bedroom door. 

“Mm…?” Tubbo groaned questionably. “Tommy?”

The person chuckled, low and quiet. “Heh, no,” he answered. Oh, it was Dream. “Tommy’s just outside, in the living room. Do you want me to bring him here?”

Keeping his eyes open was becoming a challenge, so he closed them again and hummed softly in approval. 

He felt Dream leave his side and dozed off for a few minutes before the air shifted next to him. A large, thin hand lightly tapped his cheek a few times.

Tubbo smiled weakly. “Hello, Tommy,” he rasped, eyes remaining closed. He didn’t need to see to know who it was. 

“Hello, Tubbo,” his friend greeted, quieter than Tubbo’s ever heard him. “How are you feeling?”

He groaned in response and Tommy laughed softly under his breath.

“Have some water, big man. You probably need it.” 

Tommy helped him sit up, steadying him as he swayed where he sat, eyes still shut. A straw poked his lips, and he sipped the cool water greedily, relieving his extremely parched throat. 

His friend slowly lay him back down and covered him back up with a blanket.

“Feeling better?”

Tubbo hummed positively. The uncomfortable, sweaty heat from before had left, and now he just felt bone tired.

“You better,” Tommy muttered, words lacking their usual bite. “You gave everyone a nasty scare, you know?”

Tubbo frowned. “Everyone?”

“Yeah, yeah. Not sure if you meant to do it, but you sent quite the worrying message in the general chat. You usually only whisper direct messages, so it was a surprise for everyone to see that.” Tommy leaned forward and rested his arms on the side of Tubbo’s bed. “It caused a bit of an uproar, since you’ve been radio silent for a while.”

Tubbo paused. 

“Tommy,” he croaked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m too delirious to handle this right now. Please tell me all of this tomorrow.”

Tommy cackled loudly, forgetting to stay quiet, and the volume made Tubbo wince slightly. His head pounded painfully, but his chest felt warm knowing that his best friend was here next to him and Dream was right outside. He wasn’t alone.

Tommy continued chatting, remembering again to stay significantly quieter than normal, and Tubbo slowly drifted off to the sound of his friend’s voice.

* * *

Tubbo blinked as he woke up again.

He turned his head towards the window. The sun shone through the clouds, reflecting brightly off of the gleaming white snow. It was morning. His little snowman still sat on the windowsill, unchanged.

His head turned to where Tommy sat last night. It was empty. Had he left? Maybe he was never even there at all and he had just dreamed it. A pang of disappointment shot through his chest.

Wait. His ears picked up on something. Distantly, there were voices talking somewhere down the hallway. 

Tubbo crawled out of bed and stood up shakily, feeling like a newborn deer. He stumbled out to the living room to see Dream, Niki, and Tommy all sitting around and eating… something. It was white, gloopy, and in a bowl?

“Hello, gang,” Tubbo called out, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

A chorus of voices greeted him.

“Tubbo!” 

“Tubbooo!”

“Big T!”

“You’re up!” Niki cried out happily. “How are you?”

“I’m good! I’m good!” Tubbo responded with a bright smile. “I feel much better. Uh… what are you all eating?”

“Lugaw,” Dream answered, pausing to blow cool air across a steaming hot spoonful of the stuff. “It’s rice porridge. Sapnap made it for you.”

Tubbo paused and felt something unpleasant curl in his stomach. The sheer thought of his existence being acknowledged by others made him uneasy. God, how much of a recluse had he become?

“Uh…” He cleared his throat nervously. “Sapnap made it, did he? For me?”

“Yeah,” Dream looked up at him calmly, and his steady expression soothed Tubbo’s worries a bit. If someone as strong and competent as Dream felt fine, then he had no reason to worry. “He told me to tell you to get well soon. So does George.”

“... I see.” Tubbo swallowed thickly. “Um… so everyone on the server saw my message then?”

“Not everyone,” Dream replied. “Some people were asleep at the time. But the people who did see were all chill.” 

Tommy, who had been looking out the window behind Tubbo, whipped his head around to gawk at Dream. The man himself ignored him to give Tubbo a reassuring smile, and the sick boy forced himself to relax his tight fists. 

Dream continued, “Nobody reacted loudly and nothing happened that was over the top. No one asked for your whereabouts. No one’s coming for you.” He reached out to hold Tubbo’s clammy hand, and the man’s touch, which had somehow become so familiar and comforting over the past few months, dispelled his worries. 

“You’re safe, Tubbo. Alright?”

Tubbo paused for a long moment before he nodded. “Alright.” He released a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. “Thank you, man.”

Dream nodded firmly, strong and steady, and Tubbo finally felt his scattered mind being put to rest. Just outside of his periphery, Tommy gave Dream a hard, scrutinizing stare.

“Now,” the masked man declared, unsubtly changing the subject to something more lighthearted. He held up his steaming bowl of rice porridge. “Why don’t you try some lugaw. It’s good, and if you don’t like it, Niki said she’ll make you something else.”

Next to him, Niki nodded with a kind smile. “Yeah! I can make some chicken soup if you want, but you should really try this first, Tubbo,” she suggested, gesturing to her own bowl. “It’s good! And it’s great against sickness. Sapnap said it’s his stepmother’s recipe.”

Tubbo laughed, feeling like himself again. “And what kind of monster would I be if I were to reject a kind step mother’s rice porridge recipe handmade by Sapnap himself?" He stopped for a moment, thinking as he watched Dream stride into the kitchen. “Did he actually cook it and everything?”

Dream replied from inside the kitchen, amid the sounds of ladles and pots gently clattering. “Yeah, he’s actually pretty good at making simple foods. He just doesn’t ever cook anymore.” He paused. “I guess all this fighting made him too busy to get back into it.”

Tubbo hummed in acknowledgement. He knew what that was like.

Dream came back with a bowl of steaming hot lugaw for Tubbo and handed it over.

“Careful, it’s h—”

“FUCK, that’s hot!” Tubbo hissed in pain and stuck out his burnt tongue as everyone laughed at his expense. “It’s good, though! I’ll make sure to send Sapnap a thank you message later.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Dream cut in quickly. “I’ll tell him.”

“Oh!” Tubbo looked up at the man with wide eyes, then smiled. “Then, if you could, please. That’d be great.”

“Sapnap’s not the only one who got you something, you know,” Tommy reported, gesturing to a large pile of boxes and packages in the corner that Tubbo had somehow missed until now.

Tubbo quickly put down his bowl with a clunk and strode over to the pile. “Woah! Is that…” He turned to his friends in confusion. “What are these?”

“They’re get-well gifts. Open them after you’re done eating,” Niki answered, looking pointedly at his still-full bowl that had been left on the table. Tubbo sheepishly picked it back up and returned to eating, to her approval.

After Tubbo ate the bowl clean, he turned to the gifts with anticipation. There were at least ten of them, some prettily wrapped and some sitting in plain cardboard boxes, all from people he forgot he had missed. 

Tubbo reached for the first present and saw another hand reach for the second one. He glanced up to see Tommy holding the one in cardboard.

“Because I am such a good friend, I will help you open all of these burdensome gifts,” Tommy declared sensibly.

Tubbo scoffed, but returned to his present without argument. Tommy was Tommy, and worked in strange ways, and he didn’t really care.

The first gift was from Sam, who had neatly wrapped up a thick parka, a wool scarf, and a wool hat, as well as four stacks of TNT. A handwritten note lay on top, reading:

> _Hi, Tubbo!_ _I hope you feel better soon. Here are some things to keep you warm. And some TNT for whatever crazy experiments you’ll probably get into when you recover. Happy holidays!_
> 
> _— Sam_

Tubbo grinned maniacally at the explosive possibilities. Ohh, he was going to have some fun later today.

“You are not leaving this house until you are completely healthy,” warned Dream sternly, reading the note over his shoulder. “Whatever ‘crazy experiments’ you want to do will have to wait another week.”

Nevermind. He would not be having fun later today. Damn.

The present Tommy opened turned out to be a box of sugar from Quackity. _Drugs are good for when you’re sick!_ the note read. _Take lots of drugs, buddy!_

“I suppose I could use that to make some Christmas cookies later,” Tubbo remarked, laughing.

The two of them continued opening gifts. A few netherite ingots and a stack of diamond blocks from Punz, his very own pair of clout goggles from George, a box of lemons and honey from Ponk, an entire double chest full of baked potatoes from Purpled, a ukulele from Wilbur, and a small grill from his friend Jack Manifold.

“Oh, man. I am going to make so many sandwiches with this bad boy,” Tubbo announced, slapping the top of the grill.

Tommy handed him a heavy, plain black box. “Last one,” he said, standing up and walking away. “You open it. I’m going to get some water.”

Tubbo gazed down at the box, feeling somewhat apprehensive. This one felt more significant, somehow. The box seemed to radiate some sort of powerful energy, vibrating slightly at his touch.

He lifted the top of the box to reveal a gleaming, deadly sharp netherite sword. The weapon was packed with enchantments, causing the air around it to shimmer slightly. Small text was etched by hand into the side of the blade, near the hilt:

_Orphan Obliterator_

Tubbo lifted the sword in awe and tilted it in his hands to catch the light. It was packed with the strongest enchantments a sword could have, but he noticed a curse mixed in at the very end of the long list.

“Curse of... Vanishing?” he read out loud.

“What the fuck?” Tommy shouted from inside the kitchen. He quickly ran out of the kitchen towards Tubbo and grabbed the sword out of his friend’s hands, annoyingly pushy but deft enough with his hands to make sure neither of them were cut on the edge of the blade. He inspected the weapon.

A note sitting inside the box caught Tubbo’s eye, having escaped his attention until now. He picked it up.

> _I’m lending this to you. I'll expect it back at some point._
> 
> _Don’t lose it._
> 
> _— Technoblade_

“Man, he’s such a bitch,” Tommy said. “What the fuck does that even mean? Why give it if you’re going to take it back?”

Niki carefully took the weapon from Tommy’s hands, and he gave it up easily. She examined the blade, looking at it from all angles.

“Tubbo,” she said in a solemn tone. The boy looked up at her. 

“Curse of Vanishing means that this weapon will disappear upon the wielder’s death,” she explained slowly, seriously.

Tubbo gave a deliberate nod. He knew that.

“And Technoblade is saying that he expects this back later.”

Tubbo nodded again, confused.

“So, what he’s telling you is…” She handed _Orphan Obliterator_ back to him and Tubbo held the weapon carefully. 

“ _Stay alive_.”

* * *

After Tubbo was put back to bed at Dream and Niki’s insistence, the trio stood in silence in the living room.

“Dream,” Tommy spoke, arms crossed. “What was that?”

Dream didn’t look at him. “What was what?” he replied in a flat tone.

“Don’t try to act dumb!” Tommy whisper-shouted, arms gestured wildly. “Things are chaotic back home, everyone’s demanding to know where Tubbo is, and they only started to calm down when you yelled at them.”

The masked man rolled his eyes, which Tommy actually couldn’t see because of the mask, but the sentiment was there. “I didn’t _yell_ ,” he refuted exasperatedly. “That was _you_ , dumbass.”

“But why did you lie to Tubbo?” Niki inquired, keeping her voice quiet. “Why did you tell him everything was okay when it’s not?”

“Because it _is_ ,” Dream insisted. “Everything’s handled. If Tubbo was in any actual danger I’d let him know, but he doesn’t need to know anything if nothing’s wrong. It’ll just give him unnecessary anxiety.”

Niki hesitated before speaking again, looking at Dream in the face, past the mask. “I know you told everyone in L’Manberg and the Dream SMP that the only way they could have any contact with Tubbo is through you,” she uttered carefully, recalling what had happened the other day when everyone saw Tubbo’s worrying message. “But these are stubborn people. Everyone in this server is known for being assertive, loud, and passionate, and they all love Tubbo with that same passion.”

She crossed her arms. “And now that he's basically alerted everyone of his existence, they're all worried about his well being and they won’t be satisfied with just your word that he’s okay. Who knows what lines they will cross to get to him? What if someone finds him while he’s here alone?”

“They won’t,” Dream argued assertively. “I’ll make sure of it. Plus—” he gestured widely to the house they stood in. “This is in the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to find this.”

Niki stood her ground. “Yes, but the people back home are determined. They want to see Tubbo, and they won’t take no for an answer. Telling them that you’ll deliver whatever gifts or letters they have for him won’t satisfy them for very long.”

Tommy stepped in. “Why don’t we just ask Tubbo what he thinks? Ask if he’ll be up for meeting people again? I—”

“He’s not,” Dream cut him off. “I know what he’ll say; he’s too forgiving— he’ll let them visit after, like, a night of thinking about it because he thinks they’re all his friends and it’ll all work out and they’ll be friendly and amicable. But he came here to escape conflict and live peacefully, and those people are too chaotic. If they come here, they’ll bring their discord with them. They have enmity in their blood; they were _born_ to instigate wars.” 

His voice lowered menacingly. “Especially you, TommyInnit. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be anywhere _near_ Tubbo.”

Tommy blinked and saw red. His hands balled up into fists and his expression twisted into an enraged scowl. He screamed, “Why, you—!”

“Shut. Up,” Dream hissed. “Tubbo’s like, right down the hallway.”

The blond boy bit his tongue, forcing himself to contain his anger.

“Listen, Tommy. You’re too dangerous. You start every war on this server. If Tubbo didn’t love you so much, I would make sure you couldn’t see him ever again.” The green hooded man aggressively shoved a finger against Tommy’s chest, nearly causing the furious boy’s anger to boil over. 

“I won’t allow any risks,” he warned, leaning down to Tommy’s level, casting a threatening shadow over him. “I won’t allow Tubbo to be in any danger. We can agree on that, can’t we, Tommy?”

The boy looked at the floorboards by his feet, refusing to look Dream in the eyes because he knew it would just set him off. He took a deep breath and forced himself to cool down just a bit.

“Yes,” he gritted out. “We can.” 

If there was one thing in the world that he had to agree with this green _bastard_ about, it was his best friend’s happiness and safety. Nothing was more important than that. 

“Good.” Dream turned to the girl next to him inquisitively. “Niki, you too?”

“Y–yes, of course,” she replied quickly.

He smiled sheepishly down at her, carefully smoothing out his threatening expression and stance. “You don’t have to worry, Niki. I’m not worried about you. You’ve always been polite.” 

She nodded wordlessly.

Dream clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled. Tubbo doesn’t need to know about what’s happening back in the Dream SMP and Manberg—”

“L’Manberg,” Tommy corrected under his breath, teeth gritted. Dream ignored him.

“And I’ll ensure that no one will find this place. You two make sure you don’t leak anything about his whereabouts. Are we in agreement?”

Tommy nodded begrudgingly. Niki nodded as well.

Dream grinned. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can't put tommy and dream's characters in the same room for too long and not expect them to butt heads. thats the only reason why there's some tension at the end of this chapter lol
> 
> also i'm not filipino and i have no idea what white british people eat when they're sick because i'm not white or british so i took what i knew and ran with it  
> i usually eat 죽 (juk) when i'm sick and sapnap has a filipino stepmom so there's my reasoning for including lugaw lmao


	8. Ranboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo finds an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> around 4600k words! i think this is one of my longest chapters lol  
> also the number of asians in the comments last chapter after i talked about rice porridge?? amazing. i love you all.  
> 

Of course, Tubbo heard everything.

It was impossible not to. Dream and Tommy were only just down the hallway and they’ve never been very quiet people, especially Tommy. Even if Tubbo wasn’t actively eavesdropping with his ear flat against the wall, he’d still be able to hear their conversation fairly clearly from anywhere in his room.

Tubbo listened keenly to Dream and Tommy argue, feeling his heartbeats quicken and pound in his ears. Well, it was less of an argument and more just Dream antagonizing Tommy, riling him up, sparking a flame near a fuse that was already close to detonation.

“—He doesn’t need to know anything if nothing’s wrong...”

“—Why don’t we just ask Tubbo what he thinks?”

“He came here to escape conflict and live peacefully, and those people are too chaotic… they were _born_ to instigate wars...”

“If it were up to me, Tommy, you wouldn’t be anywhere _near_ Tubbo.”

… Well.

Uh.

At least he knows they care about him…?

Tubbo let out a muted groan, careful to be quiet so his friends wouldn’t hear him. He slid down with his back against the wall to sit on the floor. His head fell into his hands, fingers gripping his hair by the roots as he shakily exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

He had every right to be mad. Every right! After all, Dream’s behavior could be classified as controlling or even toxic, couldn’t it? Tubbo was fully capable of making his own decisions, he didn’t need his friends going behind his back, holding secrets and keeping him in the dark, manipulating things so he could live happily in ignorance.

But it wasn’t like Dream was wrong in his reasoning. Tubbo _had_ run away to escape conflict, and too many people in this server were trigger-happy, belligerent warmongers, their swords and axes mere inches from reach at any given time. Admitting it to himself left a nasty taste in his mouth, especially since it applied to his own friends as well. But it was the truth.

What hurt even more to acknowledge was that Dream was right about Tommy— his best friend was the worst aggressor out of all of them. The blond gremlin was hugely instrumental in instigating nearly every conflict on the server with nearly everyone, even his best friend. Tubbo’s mind flashed with sour memories of his own fight with Tommy when he set his beloved house on fire and refused to apologize, abhorrent to admit that he, the great TommyInnit, could ever be in the wrong.

So yeah, if Tommy wasn’t Tubbo’s best and closest friend, if he didn’t love him with his entire being, he probably wouldn’t allow him within a thousand block radius of his house. Sorry, Tommy.

Of course, Dream being here didn’t help matters in the slightest. He and Tommy together was a worse combination than Sapnap and innocent animals. Dream knew this, so he usually took care to make sure that whenever he visited, Tommy wasn’t anywhere in sight. Tubbo had asked him about it once.

“Why don’t you visit whenever Tommy is around?”

Dream had looked at him like he was dumb. “I… I think you know very well how terribly Tommy and I get along,” he said slowly, enunciating his words carefully.

Tubbo nodded knowingly. Of course. “But you don’t mind that he knows you’re here at all?”

Dream shrugged. “Whether he knows I visit you or not doesn’t matter. That doesn’t have to be a secret. What matters—” He gently placed a heavy, callused hand on Tubbo’s head, and the boy felt himself relax unconsciously under the warm weight of his friend’s hand. “What matters is your happiness and safety. And if Tommy and I are near each other, we’ll just make you upset.”

He had been right about that as well, annoyingly enough. Tubbo huffed out a breath, blowing an irritating strand of hair away from his face. Listening to the two of them argue had made something dreadful curl in the pit of his stomach, made his throat close up, made him breathe shallowly and silently by instinct, terrified of being noticed. It brought back unpleasant memories that he hadn’t reflected on in months, and he’d rather not have to. 

After sitting and contemplating for a while, Tubbo cleared his throat and noticed it was uncomfortably dry. But as he stood to leave his room and get a glass of water, he realized that he really, really, really did not want to be in the same room as Dream and Tommy. Just the thought made his stomach sink in anxiety. Which was dumb! They’d never _hurt_ him or do anything to upset him, especially not in front of him. They had even done their best to be quiet while they argued so that Tubbo wouldn’t hear, though while the sentiment was kind, they weren’t exactly quiet people.

But just hearing them quarrel for what couldn’t have been more than a minute or two had made Tubbo just… so unbelievably upset. The walls in his normally comforting bedroom were beginning to look much too close, much too enclosing, more like a prison or a trap than a safe place. And he was still thirsty. And he was just a _little_ peeved at Dream and Tommy for arguing in his house, a place he had built to feel safe. Granted, it’s not like he had issued a rulebook or something that explicitly stated “No fighting”, but he had expected that to be fairly obvious. Apparently not. 

So with that in mind, he packed some food and supplies, pulled on the thick clothes that had been sent to him (thank you, Sam), purposely left his communicator on top of his neatly made bed so it would stand out conspicuously, wrote a carefully worded note to Tommy, Niki, and Dream, and promptly hopped out the window.

Once again, he was running away from problems. If it had worked once, he might as well try it again. Tubbo sniffled, roughly rubbed his nose on his sleeve, and carried on, boots crunching through the snow. Attached to his waist, a funny little chicken feather and wire contraption erased each of his footprints, a handy little invention he hadn’t thought he’d ever need, but apparently life just continues to surprise him. No one would be able to track or follow him. Not even Dream could teleport to his coordinates, since he had intentionally left his communicator behind. 

Tubbo inhaled deeply, breathing in the chilly, refreshing winter air. His shoulders shook slightly as he let out a small cough, but he was kept warm with the thick winter clothes Sam had gifted him. He should be fine, despite still being a bit ill. Dream definitely wasn’t going to be happy.

Well anyway, it wasn’t like he was running away forever. He just needed some space from his friends for a bit. He had plans to return within a week or so, just enough time to truly be alone and live without worry. And maybe enough time for Tommy and Dream to reconcile just a bit. 

Ha. Now that’s funny. As if that would ever happen.

* * *

A tall, lanky boy wandered through the snowy forest, boots leaving deep dents in the snow. 

How long had he been out here? Surely not more than a week or so, otherwise he’d certainly be dead, wouldn’t he? It was freezing, and he didn’t seem to have a home to return to. But he seemed to be doing alright for himself, considering the fact that he had been alone in the woods for who knows how long. Days, perhaps. Weeks, possibly. Months? Years? It was impossible to know for sure, his memory had always been terrible. 

The boy lifted his netherite axe and chopped down another spruce tree. He didn’t remember when or where he had gotten the tool, but he was pretty sure he had made it himself. Most of the things he did was by muscle memory or instinct, but he could clearly and accurately detail the most efficient way of mining for diamonds and ancient debris, so he liked to think that he was the one who crafted his axe, as well as his other netherite weapons and tools. 

Plus, they were all engraved with names that matched his personality and sense of humor perfectly. “A little off-camera grinding”, “Pickboo”, “Dat AXE Tho”, “I must AXE you something”, as well as a few others. Are you kidding? Those were hilarious. Prove him wrong. Go on, try. He won’t remember what you say anyway.

After collecting what he deemed enough wood for today, he retraced his footprints back to what must be his house, a comfortable little wood cottage. The door creaked slightly as he entered. He shucked off his winter clothes and threw some logs onto the fireplace, feeding the dying fire. It wasn’t exactly safe to leave a burning fire at home while he was out, but there was nothing quite like returning to a toasty warm cottage after standing out in the snow for hours and hours. The fireplace was cleverly crafted to prevent sparks from escaping anyway, and he liked to think that he had come up with that design.

He fell into some sort of routine, letting intuition and muscle memory take over. Wash up, dress into more comfortable clothes, prepare what he had caught that day for dinner. Today’s catch was a large, fatty salmon. 

Scale the fish, remove the bones, slice into fillets. He pulled out a frying pan and some oil. Cook the fish ninety percent on the skin, then right before serving, slip and sear the other side. Well, at least that’s what the old, tattered recipe he had found ages ago said to do. 

Right when he was about to dig in, a knock sounded from his front door. The boy paused for a moment. Well, that was unusual. People didn’t usually come around here. At least, not in his memory.

He got up from his clumsily carved dining table and hesitantly opened the door.

“Hello?” he greeted awkwardly. A short, brown haired boy around his age stood before him, bundled up in warm clothes and carrying a large pack on his back.

“Hello! I just saw the smoke coming from your chimney and wondered if I cou—” The boy stopped and stared at him with wide eyes. 

“Ranboo?” he whispered.

Oh, that name sounded familiar. That name _definitely_ sounded familiar. It was his, wasn’t it? It felt like it. It fit like a glove. He wanted it to be his.

“That’s—” he swallowed thickly. He placed his long, thin hand on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “That’s me, isn’t it?” 

The boy in front of him deflated visibly. “Oh,” he breathed, looking up at him, eyes softening sadly. “You’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “I… I don’t think I’ve ever remembered… anything.” 

The boy reached out and held his hand with both of his, one under and the other on top comfortingly. When was the last time he had touched someone? The last time he had even talked? His throat started to choke up. The boy tightened his grip at the sight of his expression.

“You have,” the boy assured, firmly holding his hand, and even though the boy’s hands were much colder from being outside, they still warmed him up. “You _have_ remembered. And you can remember again, okay? You got this, man. I’ll help you.”

Ranboo looked down at this mysterious boy, gazing into his open, honest eyes, and he felt like he had known him for years. He could trust him with anything. 

“Okay,” he croaked, voice choked with emotion. “Okay.”

After that, Ranboo and the boy fell into a strangely nostalgic routine that absolutely tortured the taller boy with feelings of déjà vu. He invited the boy into his home, and they wordlessly worked together domestically as if they had done it countless times before. 

Ranboo took care of serving the fish and the boy set the table. Ranboo fetched some clean water from outside and the boy prepared the fire to boil the water. Ranboo unfurled clean bedsheets and the boy drew the curtains on the windows closed. And it wasn’t until after all of that that he realized something.

“Uhh…” he said, turning towards the boy. He was washing his face in the water basin, water splashing everywhere, but he didn’t really mind.

“Yeah?” the boy answered, eyes closed as water dripped from his face.

“This is going to be embarrassing,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. “But what’s your name?”

The boy laughed behind a towel as he dried his face. “My name is Tubbo.”

Tubbo.

Tubbo.

Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo.

TubboTubboTubboTubboTubboTubboTubbo

“What? What is it, Ranboo?” Tubbo asked, snickering from across the room.

Ranboo started. God, he had just said that all out loud, hadn’t he? Living alone in the woods had made him too loose with his tongue. He had to learn how to keep his thoughts inside his brain.

“Nothing. Just…” He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. “It feels familiar. In my… in my mouth.” He grimaced. “Oh, that sounds weird. Uhh… on my tongue. On my tongue. I feel like I’ve said it before.”

The boy, Tubbo, walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. And there was something so achingly nostalgic about being near him, as if he had done it hundreds of times before.

“Well, that’s good,” Tubbo remarked, happiness radiating in his voice. “Because we are quite good friends, you and I.”

“We are?”

“Yes, we are,” Tubbo affirmed with a nod, and he said it so confidently that Ranboo felt that it had to be true. “We were very good friends before I moved away to live in the Dream SMP. You wrote it in your memory book, didn’t you? Where’s your book?”

“Where’s your… where’s my book?” Ranboo responded, confused. His heart began to race, thudding loudly in his ears. Book? That sounded so familiar. It sounded important. He should know this. He should know this.

He should know this.

He should know this.

He should remember.

You should remember.

Why don’t you remember?

“Where’s your book?” Ranboo asked himself out loud, voice raising in panic. He cradled his head in his shaking hands. “You… Your book. It’s important. Where is it?” He let out an unsteady breath. “Book… book… book... Where did you put it?!”

“Ranboo…” Tubbo gently pulled his hands away from his head, where his fingers were tightly gripping his hair by the roots.

“T-Tubbo,” he begged, grabbing his friend’s hands. His friend. He can say that, can’t he? Tubbo said that they were friends. “My book. I had a book. I-I lost it. It’s so important.”

Tubbo smiled reassuringly, and he felt his shoulders relax just a bit upon seeing his expression.

“I know it’s important,” Tubbo said. “I know. I’m the one who gave it to you, after all.”

Ranboo’s head whipped up to look at him. “You?” he breathed quietly. If Tubbo wasn’t right next to him, he wouldn’t have been able to hear him at all.

Tubbo nodded. “It’s okay that you lost it. I’ll get you a new one. We can write down new memories, yeah? How’s that sound?”

Ranboo’s brain hurt. Lost? He lost it? That didn’t feel right. That wasn’t right. Not right. He directed his gaze downwards. His head felt heavy as lead. That wasn’t right.

“I… I didn’t lose it,” he whispered, his gaze burning holes into his bedsheets. “I would never.”

Tubbo patted his back reassuringly. “I’m sure you didn’t mean t—”

“ _No_ ,” Ranboo cut him off firmly. “I would never have lost it. That book… is so important. I would never lose it. Never.”

Tubbo gazed at him wordlessly.

“Believe me,” Ranboo pleaded. “I don’t remember much, but I would never, never just… _lose_ it. Something must have happened. I swear. I—”

Arms reached out and encircled him in a hug, so painfully affectionate that he stopped right in his tracks. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as Tubbo rubbed his back comfortingly.

“Okay,” Tubbo, his friend, said. “Okay.”

Ranboo sat still for a few moments before lowering his head down into the crook between Tubbo’s head and his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend, and Tubbo tightened his hold on him in return.

“You know,” the smaller boy started. Ranboo hummed quietly, letting him know he was listening.

“I came here because I was running away from my problems. You know, as you do.”

“As you do,” Ranboo agreed.

“But I’m so glad I happened upon you,” Tubbo continued. He pulled away from their hug to look at his friend in the face, and Ranboo found that he missed his friend’s warmth.

“So,” Tubbo said, a bright, hopeful grin on his face. “I have a probabition for you.”

“... Do you mean a proposition?” Ranboo corrected, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Whatever.” Tubbo waved him off. “Probabition. Prohibition. Proposition. Do you want to come live with me?”

The taller boy froze. After a long moment of silence, which Tubbo endured patiently, he spoke in a low voice. “Like, for how long?”

“Hopefully forever,” Tubbo joked in an optimistic tone, a smile heard in his voice. “But you can leave whenever you want.”

Ranboo’s chest rumbled as he hummed in response. 

A moment of silence.

“And I can stay for as long as I want?”

“Well, of course, man.”

“I have really bad memory.”

Tubbo wrapped his arms around Ranboo again. “I know.”

“I’m gonna be annoying to put up with.”

“Surely you won’t be. And if you are, it’ll be okay. I’ll help you.”

Ranboo’s shoulders shook slightly. He held his friend tightly. “Will you?”

Tubbo closed his eyes and leaned more of his weight against his friend. “Yeah. I promise. I’ll help you whether you choose to move in with me or not.”

“Then yes, please,” Ranboo croaked, voice breaking. His vision blurred as hot tears gathered in his eyes. “I would like to come live with you.”

Tubbo giggled, laughter ringing like little bells. “Awesome. Do you want to leave tomorrow then?”

Ranboo opened his mouth, then closed it promptly as he realized something. He opened it again and spoke hesitantly. “Can we…?”

“Hm?”

“Can we leave now?” he spoke in a quiet, timid voice.

Tubbo glanced outside warily, peering at the pitch blackness through the small crack in the window curtains. “It’s dark. There's gonna be a lot of monsters, I reckon.”

“I know. I just…” He took in a shuddering breath and let it out, just as unsteady. His fingers gripped the back of Tubbo’s shirt tightly, as if the boy would disappear if he let go. It’d leave a crease in the fabric, but Tubbo was never one to care too much about clothing. 

He whispered in a broken voice, “I don’t want to go to sleep and forget you again.”

Tubbo stilled for a moment, but recovered quickly. “You won’t,” he tried to assure him.

“I will.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I woke up this morning not knowing anything!” Ranboo cried. “How do I know I won’t wake up tomorrow in the same way? How do I know I won’t wake up a completely different person?” Tears spilled from his eyes, dripping down his black and white cheeks. “How do I know I won’t forget you?”

Tubbo was rendered silent for a minute. All he could do was tighten his grip around his shaking friend and shush him gently, be a comforting presence, be a good friend to make up for all the years he’s been gone. 

“If you do forget me,” he slowly started, awkward and terrified of saying the wrong thing. He felt Ranboo muffle his sobs as he quieted to listen. “I’ll make sure to be there for you when you wake up. I’ll repeat everything we talked about today to you and I’ll give you an even tighter hug than this one we’re doing right now.”

It wasn’t much, he knew that. There was only so much he could do, only so much he could help with. He didn’t have the medical prowess to cure Ranboo’s memory, and healing and regeneration potions only healed injuries on the body, not the mind. But he could still be a good friend, even though it hurt to know he couldn’t be more helpful.

Tubbo gently guided Ranboo down to lie down on the bed. He crawled in next to him, despite the cramped space, and pulled the covers over them both.

“We used to do this a lot when we were kids,” he explained, turning to lie on his back and face the ceiling.

“We did?” Ranboo asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.” Tubbo grinned. “I’ll tell you more about that tomorrow morning. How’s that sound?”

Ranboo frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but he decided against it. “Fine.”

The smaller, brown haired boy snuggled deeper into the covers and made himself comfortable. “Good night, then, Ranboo.”

“... Good night, Tubbo.”

* * *

As the sun rose, so did Niki from her guest bed at Tubbo’s house. She stretched with a grunt, got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom to wash up. 

After the three of them had discovered Tubbo’s disappearance, another fight had broken out between Tommy and Dream. The two _children_ had screamed at each other, both throwing the blame at each other like a silly game of hot potato.

“Why do you have to be so loud all the time?!” Dream had roared furiously, standing beside Tubbo’s empty bed, the missing boy’s communicator in his hand. It threatened to crack in his painfully tight fist. “He wouldn’t have overheard if you’d just be quiet for once in your life!”

“Me?! Me, Dream?! You think this is my fault?” Tommy shrieked in response, his best friend’s goodbye note crumpled in his hands. “He wouldn’t have _left_ if you had just been reasonable! He wouldn’t have felt the need to run away if you weren’t such a bitch and just _explained_ to him!”

Niki strode forward and ripped both the communicator and note from their hands. She was like a surging river, quick and unstoppable, and they could only watch as she confiscated the items with a dark, ferocious expression. 

“I have _never_ ,” she seethed, voice low with barely restrained fury. “Seen such _childish_ behavior.”

Tommy and Dream stiffened and froze in place.

“Both of you are to blame for Tubbo’s disappearance,” she accused, eyes burning with fire, hot enough to make them both sweat. 

She looked at Tommy and he shrunk back slightly. “Tommy, you are very loud and you cause too many problems. You can’t argue with that.”

Said boy directed his gaze to the floor, biting his bottom lip hard enough to bleed.

“Dream,” she said, focusing her attention to the silent, green man. “You said that the people in this server, especially Tommy, are too belligerent and hostile to come visit Tubbo. That they’d only make him upset.”

She marched right up to Dream and shoved a finger aggressively against his chest, causing him to stumble slightly backwards. “But _you_ ,” she continued. “Who do you think Tubbo is running from right now? Because it isn’t Manberg, Pogtopia, or the Dream SMP anymore. Have a think on that, why don’t you?” 

She directed her fiery glare back towards Tommy. “Both of you.”

Both boys began to open their mouths in retaliation, but simultaneously snapped them shut as Niki’s expression turned even darker. 

“Leave,” she snapped. “Leave this place this instant because Tubbo sure as _hell_ does not want you here right now. And don’t you dare come back until you both have learned to be rational people for once, instead of the _children_ you are.” She spat that word like it was nasty in taste, and they both recoiled visibly.

“Um, Miss?”

“What, Tommy,” she answered coldly.

The blond boy looked terrified, but he gathered himself enough to ask, “Are you staying here?”

“... I am.”

“Will you…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, not at all used to seeing Niki like this. “Can you let me know when Tubbo comes back?”

Niki’s expression softened ever so slightly. “If Tubbo says it’s alright to, then sure.”

“Let me know, too,” Dream piped in, a little too brave for her liking. She glowered at him, and he shrunk back. Good.

“We’ll see,” she had responded, voice cold as ice.

Ever since then, she had remained at Tubbo’s house, taking care of everything while he was gone. She tended to his crops and livestock, stocked the kitchen cabinets and iceboxes, took care of his bee farm, and cleaned the house, dusting and wiping every surface she could find. She wanted the house to be perfect for the boy when he came back.

Technoblade had visited once, expecting to find the small boy who had rescued him weeks ago. It was quite a surprise when he realized that only Niki was there, but he recovered quickly and simply rolled up his sleeves to help out. 

Niki liked Technoblade. He didn’t ask too many questions, was unexpectedly skillful at household chores, and he kindly shouldered the task of tending to the farm. Between the two of them, the house sparkled and shone more than ever.

When she had shown him Tubbo’s note detailing why he was leaving and when he’d be back, Technoblade had only rolled his eyes. 

“So dramatic,” he drawled in his monotone voice.

Niki giggled lightly. She couldn’t argue with that.

“Did he at least take my sword with him?” he questioned.

“I think so,” she replied. “I haven’t seen it anywhere around the house, and I’ve gone through quite a lot of it while cleaning.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Then we know he’s safe.”

Wilbur had shown up once as well, sporting a well worn guitar on his back. He had been surprised to see Niki there, but was happy to see her nonetheless.

“I wanted to play some music with Tubbo, but it’s been a while since we last had a bass guitar lesson, hasn’t it, Niki?” he had said with a gentle smile, one she hadn’t seen on him in months. It almost looked wrong compared to how his expression typically was in Pogtopia.

And they had a bass guitar lesson, using a bass Tubbo had recently acquired and stored in his instrument conservatory. Niki couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard with Wilbur. There was something about this place, Tubbo’s house, that made people gentler, she thought. Maybe something in the air? They were rather close to the ocean, after all. Maybe the sea breeze was doing something to them.

“Don’t be silly,” Wilbur had laughed when she brought it up with him. “The air? No, no, no.” He leaned his arms on top of the guitar in his lap.

“It’s Tubbo, obviously.”

And if that wasn’t the truest thing she had ever heard. 

  
  


After nearly two weeks of patiently waiting, Niki looked over the horizon as she made breakfast— a simple serving of eggs and bacon— and saw two figures silhouetted against the morning sun, one short and one very, very tall.

She stilled, holding her breath as the figures drew closer. Could it be…? But who was he with?

She burst out through the front door before screeching to a halt and dashing back to take the sizzling eggs off the stove. 

“Tubbo!” she called, running out the front door again. Her lungs burned as she raced over to her friend, her little brother, virtually.

“Niki!” the short figure in the distance called back, now unquestionably Tubbo. 

The two collided in a chaotic hug, Niki grunting at the impact and Tubbo letting out a breathless “Oof”. The tall, thin boy stood by awkwardly, but she couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge him at the moment.

“I’m back, Niki,” the boy greeted with a bright, bubbly laugh. And oh, she hadn’t even realized how much she had missed that laugh.

She laughed wetly, voice choked with emotion. “Welcome back, Tubbo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro the dream smp wiki has Snowchester under a "Safe Haven" ideology and "Tubbo has stated that his goals for Snowchester are not to build a new nation, but instead as more of a safe haven with defenses to protect himself."  
> i'm not saying that i had any influence on that because i most certainly did not but could you imagine if i did lmao  
> anyway we stan niki


	9. Detonation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo is just 🧍

Tubbo really liked having Ranboo around.

For one, he finally had someone to share chores with! That was a definite perk. Taking care of cooking, cleaning, his farm, his bees, his livestock, and himself took up most of his day, and now that his daily chores were cut by half, he finally had time to relax and work on new explosive experiments.

The minute they had arrived at Tubbo’s home, he had shut himself in his workshop, leaving his new roommate in Niki’s reliable hands. She gave Ranboo a general tour of the house, since she had become so well acquainted with it during Tubbo’s absence, and they became good friends after only a few minutes. Ranboo found himself missing her when she left, promising to visit soon.

Tubbo emerged an hour later with a clumsily decorated book, thick with hundreds of blank pages except for the first few, which Tubbo had filled with memories of their friendship together. The cover was cleverly titled “Ranboo’s Memory Book”, written in Tubbo’s messy handwriting, and decorated with ribbons and small gems. A work of art, truly.

Ranboo had taken to the book immediately and wasted no time filling the pages with every memory he could think of. Every morning when he woke up, Ranboo would flip through its pages, regardless of whether he remembered everything or nothing of what happened the day before. 

After his daily memory refresher, he’d walk into the kitchen and start making breakfast. 

Another thing that had changed with Ranboo moving in was how he had taken over breakfast duties. Ranboo naturally rose and set with the sun, but Tubbo usually didn’t wake until the sun was high in the sky and obnoxiously shining into his eyes. With no one else awake, Ranboo usually took it upon himself to cook breakfast, and hopefully the scent of food would bring his nocturnal friend out of his room. Sometimes it worked, and other times he had to coax a groggy Tubbo out of bed and into the dining room chair.

“Come on, Tubbo,” Ranboo huffed, heaving Tubbo out of the comforts of his bed.

“You, my friend, are an absolute monster,” Tubbo mumbled, voice thick with sleep. The boy yawned widely and Ranboo had to bite back his own yawn, refusing to let himself surrender to Tubbo’s dangerous yawn tactics.

Ranboo ungraciously hefted his much smaller friend over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, while Tubbo simply accepted it and even wrapped his arms around Ranboo’s neck helpfully. He carried him over to the dining room, and plopped Tubbo down in front of today’s breakfast.

“Eggs and bacon, I see,” Tubbo observed, eyes clearing up a bit. “A classic. Simple. But so easy to get wrong.”

Ranboo stifled a laugh. “Is that… is that so?”

Tubbo took a bite and Ranboo waited with bated breath for the verdict, playing along with the bit.

“Well?” he asked.

Tubbo closed his eyes and leaned back while Ranboo gulped dramatically.

“Ranboo, you’ve outdone yourself, my good man,” he finally declared. “Absolutely superb.”

Ranboo burst out laughing. “Good to know! Good to know!” He took a bite from his own plate, noting that the food was actually pretty mediocre. “So what are your plans for today?”

Tubbo hummed in thought, leaning his head on his hand. “Hmm… You know what, Ranboo?”

“What?”

“I might conduct the final test for my nukes today. I reckon they’re ready for launch.”

  
  


“You ready, big man?” Tubbo shouted from the dock across from him. “Got your key card?”

Ranboo swallowed thickly. He lifted a shaky thumbs up, to which Tubbo responded in kind with his own.

The nuclear launcher sat between their respective docks, silent and deadly. Tubbo had been working on this new project for the past few weeks, obsessed with making the biggest explosion they possibly could simply out of curiosity. 

“I got a bit bored messing with Sam’s TNT,” Tubbo had confessed weeks ago. “So I wanted to work with something bigger. You wanna help me out? Maybe the radiation will help with your memory problems!”

And Ranboo had agreed because, even though he tried to be Tubbo’s voice of reason most of the time, he was a teenager as well. He wanted to see something blow up. And yeah, sure. Maybe there was a chance that the _radiation poisoning_ could help with his memory. Another genius idea from the brilliant mind of Tubbo Underscore.

“On my cue!” Tubbo called, holding his key card ready in front of the slot. Ranboo did the same.

“Three!  
“Two!  
“One!

“Insert your key card!” Tubbo cried, and they both quickly inserted the cards. 

The rocket blasted off, the sound roaring in their ears. 

  
  


An explosion echoed across the server, shaking the world to its very core. 

  
  


Dream felt the floor shake under his boots. He looked grimly to the horizon, where the sun’s light against the clouds looked bloodier than usual.

BadBoyHalo and Antfrost watched tiredly as Sam freaked out, running around and raving excitedly about the explosion and who was the genius who could have caused it. He ran out the door in the direction of the blast, at which point Bad and Ant had to rein him back into the house.

  
  


Tommy, Niki, Wilbur, and Technoblade looked up as tremors echoed through the rocky ravine that they called Pogtopia. Small pebbles and coal dust rained down on top of them, and Tommy sneezed ungracefully.

Wilbur’s eyes widened and he grinned.

Fundy and Quackity gazed outside the window, observing the foreboding, thick plumes of smoke visible in the far distance.

They glanced behind themselves at Schlatt, slouched at his office desk with his hands folded in his lap, facing away from them.

“Schlaaatt...?” Quackity said nervously. “The fuck was that?”

The goat man swiveled his office chair around to give his vice president and archbishop an annoyed glare.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” he snapped. “However…” He smiled cunningly, sending shivers down Fundy and Quackity’s spines.

“An explosion of that magnitude? If I had that kinda power in my grasp… Manberg would be stronger than ever.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That stupid rebellion… what do they even call it? Pogtopia? They’d have no choice but to surrender. We could finally be at peace, free from being harrassed by those homeless, broke, exiles.”

Schlatt sat silently for a moment, presumably deep in thought, before he spoke sharply.

“Fundy,” he barked out. 

The fox man straightened up quickly. “Yes, Schlatt?”

“Go find out how much damage that explosion caused,” Schlatt ordered. “Then find out who did it. Bring them here. Be civil about it, we don’t want to scare them away.”

Fundy hesitated for a moment. “And if they refuse to comply, sir?”

Schlatt leaned his elbows onto the desk in front of him and laced his fingers together. “Then do whatever is necessary. Just make sure they’re alive and sane when you bring them here. I want them on our side.”

“Yes, Schlatt.” Fundy gave a crisp, professional salute then scampered away.

The fox man darted over trees and plains, the world blurring around him. He was quick, quicker than most animals. Riding a horse only slowed him down, made him feel bulky and clumsy, and ruined an otherwise freeing experience. Honestly, he’d be more annoyed at Schlatt for sending him off like some errand boy if not for his love of speed.

Eventually, he skidded to a stop at the edge of an enormous, smoldering crater, stretching for hundreds of blocks. He noted with a barely suppressed shudder that the explosion had reached all the way down to bedrock, clearly revealing the skeleton of the earth.

Fundy skittered around the area, scribbling quick notes on the size of destruction to report back to Schlatt, careful not to get too close to hot spots or places that burned with radiation. He wasn’t looking to get radiation poisoning today, no thank you.

The wind changed direction, and his nose twitched as he caught a familiar scent, one that he hadn’t encountered in several months.

He stilled. 

Redstone dust, flower pollen, oak wood, and honey. He’d recognize that scent anywhere.

Tubbo.

* * *

Dream whacked Tubbo upside the head.

“Ow!” he cried. “What the hell was that for, Dream?”

The man scoffed. He hadn’t even hit him that hard. “What do you think, Tubbo? I saw that huge explosion. Everyone on the _entire server_ did.”

“Wh- You don’t know it was me!”

“Everyone else on the server was freaking the hell out about it and had no idea where it came from. That leaves you.”

Tubbo frowned and pouted, looking to the right to avoid eye contact. “I thought I calculated the site of detonation far away enough for it to be unnoticeable,” he muttered.

“Well, clearly not!” Dream exclaimed in frustration. He huffed and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. “Tubbo, come _on_. I thought you wanted to lay low.”

“I do!” the boy cried. “I just… also wanted to experiment with nukes.”

“ _Weapons of mass destruction, Tubbo?_ ” Dream hissed. “How reckless can you be? What if you or… or this guy got hurt, huh?” He gestured towards Ranboo awkwardly standing by the doorway with his arms flat by his side.

Ranboo raised his hand. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Ranboo. I live here now.”

“Hi, Ranboo,” Dream replied flatly. “Well, Tubbo?”

Tubbo raised his hands placatingly. “There’s no way we would’ve gotten hurt. I built the nukes as safe as possible.”

Dream stilled. “Nukes?” he repeated. “As in, plural? As in, there are _more of them?_ ”

Oh, crap. Uh. “Err… yes?” he answered nervously.

Dream dragged a hand down his masked face. This kid was going to be the death of him.

“Okay, you know what?” he decided. He strode over to the center of the living room and flopped onto Tubbo’s couch, sprawling comfortably. “I’m staying here for the unforeseeable future.”

“What?”   
“Huh?!” Tubbo and Ranboo both exclaimed.

“You two need protection, at least for the next few weeks. I’ll bet my own netherite chestplate that everyone is sniffing around for the source of the explosion, seeing if they can get you on their side. So until I think it’s safe, I’m your new guardian.”

“Buh- wh- I- uh-” Tubbo stuttered. “But who’s going to find us all the way out here? This place is harder to find than a needle!”

A pause.

“... In a haystack? A needle in a haystack?” Ranboo unsurely finished.

“Oh, is that how the saying goes? Thank you, Ranboo.”

Dream swallowed back a laugh, nearly choking in the process. This wasn’t the time for laughing, he had to be hard and resolved. He cleared his throat. “Don’t underestimate the members of this server, Tubbo. It’s difficult to find you, not impossible. You’re safest with me.”

Tubbo fought to come up with a good argument. “But! But, uh… But I’m still… mad at you! I’m mad at you! Furious, actually!”

“Be mad at me then!” Dream said, raising his head from the couch cushions. “Be mad! I deserve it! You know how sorry Tommy and I feel for arguing like idiots in your house. We already apologized like twenty times, gave you like ten diamond blocks, and we’ve been giving you the space you need. But these are serious circumstances. I won’t stand by and watch you get hunted down and forced back into war. You don’t need that.”

Dream stood up and walked over to Tubbo, feet silent against the wood floor. He placed a gentle hand on the kid’s shoulder, contrasting his firm, resolute tone. “Be mad at me if you want. I’ll stay out of your sight, if you really don’t want to see me. I’ll hide in the bushes with a pair of binoculars or whatever, and Tommy can call me out for looking like a goddamn creep and you can laugh about it as much as you want. But, whatever it takes, I’m going to protect you.”

After a moment of thought, he cocked his head in Ranboo’s direction, where he still stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Him, too.”

“Thanks, man,” Ranboo said with a thumbs up.

Tubbo sighed and grumbled, “I never should’ve detonated that bomb.”

Dream snorted. “Should’ve thought of that before you did it, Tubward.” He ruffled Tubbo’s hair fondly, and the boy sighed in defeat before leaning into it. 

“... I lied. I’m not actually still mad,” he admitted.

“I know,” Dream simply replied. “I know. You’re not one to stay angry; you believe in second and third and fourth chances. But it’d be okay if you were mad, you know? You don’t have to forgive every time, Tubbo.”

A moment of silence. Then,

“So… are you sleeping on the couch?” Ranboo piped in. “Because I kinda took the guest room, and I really like sleeping on a bed. I- I mean, if you really want a bed, I don’t mind moving. It’s just that I, uh, I sleepwalk sometimes, and I don’t know if you wanna deal w-”

“I’ll take the couch.”

“Awesome.”

And so there were three.

Before he had arrived to chastise Tubbo, Dream approached Awesamdude and struck a deal. Sam would pretend to be the one who constructed the bomb to direct attention away from Tubbo, and he agreed to the deal easily, knowing that it was to protect his friend. Then, Dream had messaged everyone the false news, and that seemed to assuage most of everyone’s worries about the smoke in the distance.

Although Tubbo wasn’t fond of his credit for the bomb being stolen, he also wasn’t fond of being hunted and dragged back into the fray, especially when his whole shtick nowadays was being peaceful. So he sulked quietly about it and told Dream to thank Sam for him.

Tommy had messaged him shortly after Dream finished settling in, asking if he had seen the explosion. When he replied that he was the one who had caused it and if he could please not tell anyone, Tommy spammed his communicator with “POGCHAMP” and “Can I have a nuke, please, Tubbo” and “If you could aim the next one right at Schlatt’s head, that’d be much appreciated, thanks in advance”. 

Good to know he was unbothered about it, unlike Dream. Tubbo didn’t know if he could handle both Dream _and_ Tommy hovering over him constantly.

With Dream established as their third (temporary) roommate, Tubbo made it explicitly clear early on that if he was staying with them, then he had to take on his fair share of chores. Now, with the daily chores split between three of them, Tubbo found that he had more free time than ever, much to Dream’s chagrin.

“Tubbo, have you ever heard of _chilling?_ Just perhaps?” Dream groaned, following Tubbo as he trekked his way through the thick woods. Ranboo had decidedly stayed behind at the treehouse, happy to spend the day finishing a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle.

Tubbo blew a strand of hair away from his face. “Oh, come on, Dream! Aren’t you, like, the strongest person on the server? You can handle a hike through some woods.”

“Hiking isn’t the problem; it’s where we’re hiking to.”

“What, to the nuclear development lab? Listen, Dream, I will admit that detonating that first nuke so close to the rest of the server was a mistake! I can see where I went wrong there! I didn’t think it’d cause such a huge explosion; I didn’t think it’d be big enough for the people back in the SMP to see. I thought I had chosen a far enough area for ground zero. That’s my mistake. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Good to know you’ve seen the error of your ways.”

“But!” Tubbo continued. “I also think that we learned a lot from the first missile that we can use to improve the others. And there’s nothing with becoming powerful, right? Surely you understand?”

Dream thought about it. These were nuclear weapons they were talking about here, weapons of mass destruction. There was a line between acquiring fully enchanted netherite armor and weapons, stocking up on potions, and leveling up, and utterly obliterating a several-hundred-block area all the way down to the world’s bedrock. 

But, on the other hand, Technoblade had access to withers, which could also do incredible amounts of destruction. How many withers he could create was uncertain, but Dream knew not to underestimate the pig man’s abilities. 

Plus, while he didn’t like the idea of attention being brought to Tubbo, it wasn’t a bad idea to acquire power. It’s not like he, Dream, was particularly opposed to causing chaos and destruction anyway. It’d be downright hypocritical of him to scold others for it.

He sighed. “Fine, I guess.”

Tubbo grinned smugly. “Plus, if anyone tries to hurt me, I can just use the nukes to threaten them. Pretty good, eh?”

And oh, man. Dream felt his face stretch into a proud smirk. This kid was absolutely going to be the death of him.

* * *

Ranboo placed another piece of the jigsaw puzzle into the correct spot. So far he had completed about half of the thousand-piece puzzle, and it had only been about an hour. He wasn’t much of a boaster, he didn’t like to brag about his achievements, but he was feeling pretty accomplished at the moment. He liked these kinds of activities, brain stimulating ones that challenged his problem solving skills.

As he placed another puzzle piece, he heard a sharp knock on the front door. 

He froze. Logically, it couldn’t be Tubbo or Dream. Tubbo would just let himself in while shouting “I’m back!”, and Dream always slammed the door open loudly, his boots thumping loudly against the entryway floor. This was someone unfamiliar, someone who didn’t normally come here. Should he even open the door? What if it was dangerous?

His mind flashed with the fond memory of Tubbo knocking on his cabin door in the woods. Although his ability to remember was never good, that one memory always managed to stick with him no matter what. Just like Tubbo. Oh Jesus, that was… that was cringey.

Putting embarrassing thoughts aside, strangers knocking on his door has brought him pretty good fortune before. Who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again? Plus, it could just be Niki, though his gut feeling seemed to disagree.

The stranger rapped on the door again, a bit impatiently, and Ranboo quietly stood up and walked over. His hand hovered hesitantly over the door handle for a moment before a surge of bravery took over and he flung open the door to reveal a man he had never seen before. Or, at least, not in his memory, which didn’t mean much.

“Hello?” Ranboo greeted.

“Oh! Hi!” the stranger said, a bit taken aback, as if he wasn’t expecting to see a 6’6” enderman hybrid open the door. “Uhh… is Tubbo there?”

“Not at the moment, no,” he answered, relaxing a bit. The guy apparently knew Tubbo, seemed to be on fairly good terms with him if he was searching him out, which meant he was probably a nice person, right?

“Oh,” the man said, nose twitching. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Ranboo thought for a moment. “Probably not for another few hours. Why?”

“Well… uhh…” the man faltered. His left ear twitched, and Ranboo stared at it curiously. “I’m… an old friend of his. I wanted to catch up, since it’s been so long.”

“Okay,” Ranboo nodded. He could accept that answer. “Do you want to stay here until he comes back?”

The man’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah. I’d feel bad leaving you out here until Tubbo comes back.” He stuck out a thin, gloved hand. “I’m Ranboo.”

The stranger paused for a moment before reaching out and taking his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Ranboo. I’m Fundy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were surprised by Manberg and Schlatt still being relevant, that's just because either A) I write so freaking slow or B) the DreamSMP plot moves too freaking quick lmaoooo
> 
> anyway

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In hindsight, I don't miss you that much](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867670) by [sassyandlost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyandlost/pseuds/sassyandlost)




End file.
